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Introduction. 

I. 

The morn was fastly breaking into day, 

Painting the clouds with striped bands of gold, 
As it made paths upon them in its play, 

Playing philosophy to ne'er grow old: 
I wandered there alone, with thot untold, 

And never to be told, and wondering 
What unique things had from the ages rolled, 

And how I would like to see anything, 
If it but some new thot and life to me would bring, 

II. 

As this I wondered, laughing at myself. 

And laughing at the world beneath my feet, 
And laughing at the stars within their gulf 

Of sober sky serene; I laughed to meet 
That thing called Death, who travels on wings fleet, 

And tries to frighten mortals out of life, 
Because it wants the life itself, to heat 

And fuse together to make death — and grief 
Is skimmed off with a ladle, and thrown into Belief. 

III. 

Fine gruel — but I started something else; 

As I was saying, I was there alone, 
Hunting for anything that was aught else 

But myself and my soul: but all had flown 
Upon some wings to me not quite unknown — 

For I had been thus blind before, in spirit, 
And understood this little case as one 

As I had understood before: to bear it 
Had grown amusing to me — indeed which was some merit. 

IV. 

I was amused with Life and Death and all — 

It really did seem laughable to me: 
I laughed to see Hell rise and Heaven fall — 

I laughed to see Souls writhe in agony, 
I laughed at self — then did not deign to see 

Myself or anything, but went along 
Unseeing, but expecting verily 

To get a glimpse of something, or a song — 
For often things are loud — not to be seen among. 



4 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

V. 

I traveled on, vintil I came unto 

A clearing, built into the boundless sky, 
And roofed above with nothingness, which flew 

And mingled with itself, until my eye 
'Came dizzy looking at it steadily; 

And so I looked around where sight would go: 
There sat a mortal — or immortal — I 

Not being used to either, did not know, — 
And like all other things, what it was it did not show, 

• VI. 

What e'er it was, I very aimlessly 

Moved towards it, and asked it what it was; 
It, startled — look'd at me as if to see 

What being thru these fields had dared to pass. 
And come upon it in this manner, as 

If it were a mere every day occurrence 
To run upon such dignity — a mass 

Of would-be splendor (indeed, very far hence), 
And who refused to drown in all the sky's bright currents. 

VII. 

Who are you? I was asked: I did not say, 

But that I was a Pilgrim betwixt Hell 
And Heaven, and betwixt the Night and Day: 

I then demanded that it was he should tell 
Who he was if he really knew so well: 

My name! My name! Why, my name is Dormito! 
And you have never heard? It never fell 

From lips on Earth? I said: Leave it to me to 
Attend to that, my poor dear fellow, I will see to! 

VIIL 

Do not make fun of me, for I am sad! 

I have so much to do, and I must do it! 
I want to reform the World, so I am mad! 

I mean that what I say, so I'm a Poet! 
The World is not Ideal — I want to show it 

Where it is wrong, and could be made so right! 
But wrong loves wrong, and so will not allow it 

To make it morning where it now is night! ' 
Won't you help me! aid me! you look an Eremite! 

IX. 

What is your plan? I asked. My plan — my plan! 

My plan to change the Earth into a Heaven! 
My plan! Ah, I shall tell the best I can! 

To tell the truth, it cannot all be given — 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 



I get so wild, that sometimes I feel even 

That I may fly to naught! — But is my route — 

My whole life's work not worthy to be striven — 

To die for? "Well — if you think so, no doubt — 

I do not think the World's worth going mad about!" 



Canto I. 

I. 

I stood upon a promontory vast. 

And gazed, with burning brow, the Eastern day. 
Which woke with thots of fire and glowing brast, 

And trembled towards me each firey ray: — 
Each ray which beckoned and which seemed to say: 

Come hither! oh, come hither! come to me! 
Come! Blaze the rocks which do between us stay, 

And swim the vast and wild and pitless sea — 
For I have Love and Truth and Beauty here for thee! 

II. 

I lingered and I looked: Above, the sky 

Was flawless and was cloudless and was clear; 
I breathed its passion, and then cast my eye 

Below, and saw the ocean roll and rear 
In all its peaceful beauty, and appear 

As Winter's sky, writhing in Summer's pain — 
So calm the travail — distant, yet so near! 

So near that I could almost feel again 
The thudding dullness which beat o'er its massive brain. 

III. 

And yet so far it was, that I could not 

Linger within that treachery of woe. 
For hardly had my grasping soul been fraught, 

When all the sense of grandeur then would go, 
And leave me with weak human passions, so 

Small and so meaningless — but yet so great! 
So high within the mind, and yet so low 

Within the soul, that I could almost hate 
All Man for living, and thus giving in to Fate! 

IV. 

Again I gazed at the tranquil sky. 

The gentle twin of ocean, and the mild 

But great thing for which doth the ocean sigh, 
And reach forth in its yearning, till its wild 



6 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Pulse beats the Earth — a weak but potent child! 

But thou! What needest thou? Thou art alone, 
A tutor to the small, who are so piled 

Upon this little Earth; thou'rt never blown 
Into a ruffled passion but ever on and on. 

V. 

Thou coverest with thine azure wings the all 

That is, — that Man cannot even cry out for, 
For he knows not of it: his little bawl 

Thou hidest, and all which he doth adore. 
His little wail, which he calleth a roar. 

His all — ^as the mere nothingness it is! 
Thou covered'st all for ages aye before 

His feeble sight awakened to all this: 
And yet he squabbles o'er thee, as if thou wert his! 

VI. 

Thou — Thou who art Eternity! Oh, Thou 

Who art the Mother of the Universe! 
Mother of all! Oh, didst thou know that now 

Thou hast a litter which in glory curse 
Themselves? But thou knowest it grows no worse. 

For they are shackled to themselves, and even 
So that 'tis bare a curse; and thou, their nurse! 

Thou who hast suckled them, and now their haven! 
Dost thou deem that they see from whom their light is given? 

VII. 

Nay! That thou mumblest in thy breathing thunder! 

Nay! That thou flashest in thy ruthless f^re. 
Which plays with him, and tears his all asunder! 

Why are thou not ruled by his proud desire? 
Why mak'st thou not the Earth his funeral pyre. 

His shrine of life the mother of his birth, 
That his vain thot may not yet reach up higher — 

Instead a mere convenience to the Earth, 
A king of all there is — a king of noble worth? 

VIII. 

A perfect stillness reigned thru all the air. 

And but a whispering sea was in my ears. 
So that I realized not I was there — 

So lost I was. All of Man's little fears 
Were trampled far and deep in the arrears, 

As I stood there alone. All was so still 
That my own breath resounded as the spheres — 

But wild — my passions were so variable; 
Again I gazed below as my sight heavy, fell. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Upon the right the ocean softly heaved, 

And murmured still its tune perpetual — 
Which came to me as if it sadly grieved, 

That it could only ever rise and fall, 
And mirror the vain blue, which formed a wall 

To separate it from Eternity, 
That its voice only to the Earth could call, 

And it a part of Earth must ever be — 
The Ocean fettered! the fond symbol 'of the Free! 

X. 

Nothing is free! What art thou, Freedom? What 

Art thy wild claims? Pretentions, silly child 
Of Man's excited brain! Product of Hate 

And Bigotry and clutching Meanness! Wild — 
Wild Fantasy of little oppression piled 

Upon a little hater, watched with dark 
But blazing eyes, and every movement smiled 

At, from where the bright-wreathed ape, small and stark. 
Is lolling — luxury, law, on every chance remark! 

XL 

Why this? 'Tis but a drugged craving of 

A sort — Mankind! He turns, and is ashamed 
Of his weakness; and Shame knows not of Love! 

In fury he arises — sees he's lamed — 
And is content with naught till all is maimed. 

Till all is torn to him, and drowned in blood — 
Blood that is spilt to make the bleeder famed! 

Another God — or many — then intrude, — 
Are blessed and praised and worshipped by the Multitude! 

XII. 

And then that is relief! Relief from what? 

Relief from what they had before: relief 
From the desire to have what they had sought! 

But what instead? A meek, transient belief — 
Demoniac happiness to turn to grief — 

A craving to be drugged again, and grow 
Till Man to Eove and Life and God be deaf, — 

Degenerated to a thing to bow 
To Hate and Crime and Lust and bloody death in Woe! 

XIII. 

I turned and gazed upon my left: A plain 

Stretched forth anon, and mingled with the sky, 

Where both were lost in mutual love and pain, 
As is a lover's face in lover's eye: 



8 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

The firmament stooped down and seemed to die 
Within the meadow's raised embrace, and both 

Became one soul, the which did calmly fly- 
To a sweet nothingness, which left one loth 

To leave the sight: Perpetual Love, perpetual Truth! 

XIV. 

A mist arose beneath my towering throne, 

And floated, writhed and rolled, until I saw 
It take upon a shape, and where had flown 

A shapeless mass of mist, there now a flaw 
Appeared, and to the universal law. 

Consumed the whole in its embrace, I stood 
And gazed at calmly what before might awe. 

It grew still more distinct, until I could 
Make out a writhing, seething, raging multitude. 

XV. 

They fought among themselves, and lookt to be. 

From my great height, the white and unctuous 
Worms of dead flesh, they writhed so sickeningly; 

A lightened shadow then passed o'er my brows. 
For they divided, and a wall arose 

Between the two, and on each side they fought. 
And charged the wall, only to reach their foes. 

The wall stood well; not gaining what was sought. 
Those on one side clomb to the top, to which rocks were brot, 

XVI- 

And boiling oils, to hurl down on the others; 

Who, in turn, then, spent all their energy 
To climb the other side, and fling their brothers 

Down to the ground, to their own agony; 
Such fumes arose that I no more could see, 

Except a reeking mass, which sent a cloud 
Of bloody mist, which hovered o'er the lea 

Where the battle raged — a sad, appropriate shroud. 
Which muffled into one, their many curses loud. 

XVII. 

And thus they fought and I stood hypnotised, 

Watching the cloud as it changed from red to black, 
And back again; and then as I surmised, 

It rose, and slowly, clumsily, rolled back, 
And showed, exposed, the mad, blood-thirsty pack, 

Who deemed themselves, alone, celestial. 
In mad confusion, tearing over brake 

And sallow field — all screaming, cursing — all 
Cheering aloud to see another faint or fall. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 
XVIII. 

The faction which had first clomb up the wall 

Were fast retreating; the others had pressed 
Upon them, till they had turned and had left all 

In mad confusion, and were now charged lest 
Some might escape alive, and live as blest, 

Not as defeated, but as if victory 
Had crowned them. Each one did his very best 

To live and kill: When lo! Mad, desperately, 
The retreaters turned — and screamed, all: Immortality! 

XIX. 

Amid the turmoil I could hear no more, 

Distinctly, but a babbling roar awoke 
The morning air to painful travail; the roar 

Turned to a sickening screech, which rose and broke 
Into a thousand echos, each which took 

Its ghastly flight into oblivion— 
Where worlds are lost but as a wreath of smoke — 

Where everything is going, ages gone — 
Life, elements, and worlds — the infinite anon! 

XX. 

The factions charged, and melted into one: 

Writhed then as worms, and mingled then as mist — 
A cloud, which rose, floated, and then was gone — 

Dissolved into the air of Hell: I wist 
To cause Earth curse a martyr Anarchist 

For blood be spilt by quarrels of little minds. 
Which feebly rise, and tremble, reel and list 

Into Hell's bosom, where Ignorance aye finds 
A compensation for the crimes of all his fiends. 

XXI. 

The stillness of the elements then broke; 

The wind began to rage, and wildly beat 
Upon the Earth. I turned; the ocean took 

On a new countenance — beneath my feet 
The waters rush along, until they meet 

My height's foundation, whence in roaring thunder 
They back recoil into their massive seat, 

And tear themselves in madness blind, asunder, 
Until the very seat of Earth, in fear, rolls under. 

XXII. 

Screeching, the waves dash up in crystal mountains, 
And lingering for a moment, shake in passion, 

Thence to break over, and splash up in fountains 

Of seething wrath, until they reach their station — 



10 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

They sink, and then with bare an intermission, 

Arise again into a greater tower. 
And with their crests, there trembling, writhing, lashing, 

Again they lose their strength, and foamings pour 
Into their self left valleys — Eternity's mad hour! 

XXIII. 

I reveled among the raging elements 

And cast my mind without to rage with them, 
Until my thots broke thru their morbid tents, 

And crested on the sky — a diadem 
Of a million eyes, jewelled around the rim. 

To see the all — to pierce the deep — and thence 
To contemplate beyond the shallow hem 

Of present difficulties, and see whence 
The difficulties rise — their future recompense.. 

XXIV. 

I sat in thot upon the ocean, and 

Rode on the beating wings of the wild wind, 
Which dashed me when I wished upon the sand. 

Thence for the favorite waves, rolling, to find 
Me and rise up to where, there, crystallined. 

The clouds were hung suspended on sunbeams. 
From the teared sky, and carelessly so lined. 

That they seemed as the dwelling-points of dreams. 
When sleep is billowed on the love that darkness deems. 

XXV. 

The sky grew dark — the clouds grew thick and black. 

And lined the entire dome, until the light 
Of day was gone, and morn seemed turned back 

Again, to its sweet sleep, whilst blackest night 
Roared in, and severed with its giant might. 

Me from the Earth, the Ocean, and the Sky, — 
And there I listened to the endless fight, 

As Nature toyed with Man's poor vanity: 
I was an outcast — did not live, and could not die! 

XXVI. 

The Ocean, Earth, and Air, and Sky all strained 

Their strength unconquered, till a colossal wreck 
Arose where once the Earth a peace had feigned — 

But now where only madness e'er could seek 
Aught but a chaos, wild and black and bleak. 

I stood in admiration of the force — 
The strength unthinkable which thus did wreak 

Its vengeance on itself, and in its course. 
Seemed trying to kill a deep, unfathomable remorse. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 1 1 

XXVII. 

And thus the battle furiously raged, 

While total blackness hung o'er all the scene: 
Methot that all the Demons were uncaged 

That had within the Universe e'er been — 
So wild the speeding, and so loud the din, 

And then as suddenly as worlds explode 
Into their mammoth creation, so within 

This tempestuous creation of an abode 
Of grandest fantasy. Nature had the same mood. 

XXVIII. 

An awful peel of thunder rent the air, 

And fiery swords of lightning cleft the sky. 
So that the clouds which were one moment there 

Were sent to naught, and those distant did fly 
To float and sulk over a meeker day: 

As suddenly a painful light was hurled 
From out the heavens, and like a distant eye 

Of universal passion, o'er the world 
The sun dashed its cold light out of the sky impearled. 

XXIX. 

And all was still. The sun now turned again 

To its accustomed glow. The wind sank down 
To naught. The ocean, tired of his pain. 

Self wrought, laid down with a low, breathless groan, 
And a few fleecy clouds which had but flown. 

Returned to sleep upon their wonted blue. 
The air once more was but a lucid gown 

To clothe the Earth's fair things and cast a hue 
Of sparkling splendor on all the beauty that shone thru. 

XXX. 

Great God of all the universal things, 

This is a small part of thy noble splendor! 
What pigmies are our little wordly kings, 

And substitutes for kings, mild, meek, and tender! 
Spirit of all! What greater things must render, 

A sight of thee! What things unknown to us, 
Which we, — the Earth — are part, — what force must send her 

Thru everlasting time: beneath our brows 
What travail doth take place to contemplate thy vows! 

XXXI. 

We cannot contemplate ourselves, nor can 

Our introspection pierce our minds, for we — 
We, infinitely small — we, little man — 

Cannot pierce thru our whole — Eternity! 



1 2 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Nor can we hope beyond ourselves to see, 

For our poor minds must have our basic self, 

The sense of animals — e'en tho it be 

A narrow, walled ledge, from which, as a shelf, 

We vainly peer into Eternity's mad gulf! 

' XXXII. 

Man's sight turns to a cloud: He screams: Oh God! 

Oh God! I see thy all! I see thy end! 
I, who am standing on this little sod, 

Can see the Fate to which thou art to send 
The Universe — the every curve and bend 

Our dooms must take, so that Thy will be done! 
Thy Will be done, the way that Thou dost tend 

Our paths around the all beholding Sun! 
Oh God! I pierce the mask of cold oblivion! 

XXXIII. 

And thus they screech about a little mist 

Which has its birth within their little eyes, 
While I, who call myself an Atheist, 

Linger in Solitude, and read the skies, 
And see therein how time forever flies — 

Time flies, to form beginning in an end — 
Ages — Eternity's spasmodic sighs: — 

I cry: Oh God! Thou everlasting Fiend! 
Why should'st Thou worship self! Why should we our sight rend! 

XXXIV. 

Oh God! Oh Fate! How helpless, true, Thou art! 

How blind Thou roll'st in Ages and in Mind! 
They call thee Strength — thy strength is but a part 

Of thy great v;eakness, nothingness doth find! 
Spasmodic gusts — vain Matter — aye do wind 

In blunders and perpetual heaving, mad — 
In vagueness absolute — in essence blind: 

And that compared by part — the all e'er had — 
Is weakly felt as Thee — as Good — as Great — as Bad! 

XXXV. 

I cast a last fond look upon the ocean. 

And then I looked upon the blue above: 
My heart throbbed with a great and sad emotion. 

As doth a heart afflicted with new love. 
I turned, but I could hardly bare to move 

From where the elements, with action proud, 
Contended, their great, unseen strength to prove, — 

Until my thots dwelt on that troubled cloud — 
And then I left, but as a ghost would leave a shroud. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 1 3 

Canto II. 
I. 

Oh! That I only could express my thots! 

Fond words! that die upon the struggling tongue, 
The passage of their labyrinthine grots, 

And breathe their dying breath in woeful song, 
What are ye, that ye would be here among ^ 

Feeble Mankind, with all your feebleness? 
The very dome to which your thread is hung 

Is weak, and cannot even itself express 
The wild and unborn madness, which it doth faintly dress. 

II. 

I lookt, I listened, and I hung my head, 

That thou, oh Time! Should cast such innate joy 
About, like flowers cast upon the dead — 

And I cannot grasp, feel, see or enjoy! 
I feel that I am a weak, fondled toy. 

Cast to amuse an infant Fate, who sees 
Pleasure in forcing others more than cloy 

With its playful but sad Philosophies — 
And then when tired of play, hurls them away for ease. 

III. 

As I am hurled away, I too, can hurl! 

Dormito ne'er deemed himself a footstool for 
Even Fate! I, too, can cause my lip to curl 

And utter curses never breathed before! 
I, too, can cause my justed anger pour 

In little jets for those that give me hate: 
But Hate! For those I ne'er have known thy power. 

Nor do I ever even contemplate 
The small, vile jealousies which Hate doth predicate. 

IV. 

Nothing is worthy of my hating — Nay! 

And very little worthy of my love! 
I cannot love that deep Eternity — 

I cannot love the God — for that above 
Man's little passions far anon doth move. 

I often have a passion more as if 
It a wild hate for God and all did prove — 

A feeling I but feel, — for I have life — 
And Eternity produced me from its terrible strife! 

V. 

Oh Time! Oh Life! How true ye do unfurl 

Your everlasting methods! How precise 
Each action! Clouds of fine-spun, floating pearl, 

Like statuary, cast upon my eyes 



14 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Their sweet, awful, unworldly traceries: 

So still — immovable — as a soft bed 
To cradle sleeping zephyrs, ere they rise 

From their calm slumber, which they well earned. 
By winging dreams from Heaven, to lover's eyes be fed. 

VI. 

And not a sound of life is heard. A brook 

Runs past my path with its clear murmuring. 
Telling a tale, which glows as if it took 

It from the rustle of an Angel's wing, 
As It flew past, to teach young birds to sing: 

A small white flower trembles at my feet. 
And trusts — 'tis all the music it can bring 

From its unknown recesses, but 'tis sweet: 
A tear drops from mine eye, which it reaches to meet. 

VII. 

Shadow of Love! I cannot leave thee here! 

I cannot — will not leave thee to the trust 
Of the cold world, tho thou'rt too pure to fear — 

Tho thou know'st not of blind and trampling lust — 
Tho thou but livest for thou deem'st thou must — 

Thou still hast danger in thy living dream! 
Yea! For all that! And I thy path have crost 

To pluck thee for thy brooklet, for I deem 
That Love should e'er be cast upon Love's crystal stream! 

VIII. 

I plucked it and I cast it on the brook: 

It smiled — it trembled as a morning ray, 
And giving me a frightened, joyful look, 

Amid their mingled laughter, dashed away 
To summer climes which have perpetual day, 

And Love and Beauty — where among the fountains 
Love, Nymphs and summer Mists forever play, 

Ceasing but only to compare their countings 
Of Naiad forms, portrayed by Heaven's pellucid mountains. 

IX. 

Such Beauty must reign some time on the Earth! 

Such Truth must live within the minds of Man! 
It will — it must — and would if as his birth 

Proclaims, Man would live, and he would not stain 
His Nature's Soul with Bigotry's coarse pain, 

And bow to methods that his Spirit calls 
Against — and suffer — Hell — and rather than 

Arise from out the mire; a puppet falls 
And is content to sink — ah! meek, religious dolls! 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 1 5 

X. 

I call on Atheism, and Anarchy! 

To lift the load of Hell — the curse of Crime! 
Lift up the Curtain of lewd Bigotry, 

And show the outcome of the Tide of Time! 
Show forth the Ideal, buried now in grime — 

In grime frozen by her breath; the glorious 
Existence, wild, mad, and profound, sublime — 

Which she now hides with her filthy grave clothes — 
But which are pierced — 'tis shown upon a Poet's brows! 

XI. 

I sink — go mad — for that — that wild perfection! 

Perfection which exists but in my dreams — 
Spurred on in waking by the World's defection; 

I crave — until in craving my life dims — 
My brain whirls madly — until my thot seems 

A raging tumult of what ought to be! 
Until my very life ceases, and teems, 

Where once it was, a wild and rolling sea — 
Each wave a thot — the total strength — the all of me! 

XII. 

Where life is love, and love is life, and beauty 

Is all the Earth. Where Purity and Truth 
Supremely reign. And each Man's Soul his duty. 

His sole dictator, which of ever doth 
Perfection: and is absolutely loth 

To the modes of today — to Crime diseased — 
To the infection which doth turn life's youth 

To a depraved monster, only appeased 
By casting misery o'er Life until 'tis ceased. 

XIII. 

I turned, and entered in a cavern; dark 

And dreary was the passage way which led 
Deep down into the earth, and lost in stark 

Silence, which was by my step rather fed 
Than was diminished. The walls seemed clammy, dead — 

So cold they were as I did grope along — 
That I to feel my way did almost dread 

To touch them. But it was not very long 
Before I thot I heard a melancholy song. 

XIV. 

I stopped and listened — and I heard a moan — 

Then all was still again. I could not see 
A light from whence the sound ensued; 'twas gone 

Before my ear could altogether be 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 



Assured of the direction — gropingly 

I stumbled on, until no further could 
I penetrate, for there preventing me, 

The passage dwindled to a wedge, which would 
Afford not passage for my body to intrude. 

XV. 

I reached forth with my arm, and felt where it 

Dwindled to nothing — then a step or two 
Aback, and I entered in where I might 

(A passage from the side, which seemed to go 
Down sloping) quite more easily push thru. 

I slowly stepped anon, when then I came 
To an abrupt ending; so what to do, 

I stood there thinking, when I saw a flame 
Flash thru a crevice in the floor, which light became. 

XVI. 

I stooped — I knelt and felt along the floor; 

A small square seemed of rotten wood — 'twas wet, 
And covered o'er with clay, twas a trapdoor, 

Which had been in position tightly set, 
But for the warped end which did not meet; 

I grasped it firmly, and by pulling hard, 
Tore it, and broke it where it would not let. 

And laid it to one side. Not further barred, 
For my descent into the cellar I prepared. 

XVII. 

The floor I saw perhaps twice my length below. 

Thru the faint light, — so I let myself down. 
Into what sort of thing I did not know; 

I dropped — I looked about, but saw no one 
At first, until I heard a mournful groan 

Behind me, — then I looked around and saw 
What appeared to me a Youth, sitting alone 

In a dejected posture, with his jaw 
Resting within his palms, held by some unknown awe. 

XVIII. 

He did not seem to note my presence there. 

But gazed ahead, and with a pained look 
Which cast o'er him a wierd unearthly air. 

The light, which was not bright, faded, and took 
A wilder color as of crystal smoke, 

Until it slowly died away. But what — 
What is that sitting there? A ghost — a spook 

Of some dead leper? My brow grew flushed and hot- 
For then I maddened at the pitiable thot. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 1 7 

XIX. 

What cruel tyrant reigned o'er here? For as 

The light sank down, the Vision grew more clear, 
Until they both into a glow did pass, 

While everything about was black and drear. 
The Youth still sat there, motionless, austere, 

While at his back the Leper sat, and chewed 
His skull, while he did horribly cast leer 

And grimace, o'er his feast — ferocious, lewd; 
But for a rotted shroud, he sat exposed and nude. 

XX. 

The light, uncanny, from some unknown place, 

Then slowly crept Upon the air again; 
The Vision vanished with it, but his face 

Clung to his feast of travail and of pain 
After the light was brighter, nor did deign 

To cease his gnawing, horrible, even as 
He was erased as fancies of the brain — 

But as he to a nothingness did pass, 
Remained he in his action, nor moved from where he was. 

XXI. 

I stood, and transfixed to the spot with wonder. 

Until I shook it off — and then I went 
Towards the Youth, and as he deep did ponder 

I touched him on the shoulder — he lifted and bent 
His gaze upon me: My spirit was rent 

With a deep pity for his suffering gaze, 
Which told of ages in dire misery spent — 

Ages impressed upon a fair, young face — 
As time is told in thot, not in the years it lays. ^ 

XXIL 

Without a change of aspect, he then spoke; 

Are you here too? You are — when did you come? 

He ceased, but gave to me an inquiring look, 
And then sank down into his posture numb. 

I spoke: Yes, I have come into thine home- 
But who art thou? What dost thou here? why did'st 

Thou enter here, and so cast thyself from 

The rest of Man — the World, where thou amidst 

Should'st be, instead of as thou hast of thyself rid'st? 

XXIII. 

He sat there motionless, then as before, 

After a while, spoke in this vacant mien 
Of dazed surprise: Are you here too? You are — 

When did you come? It easily was seen 



18 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

He did not realize where he had been, 

Nor where he was, so with a calm expression 

I spoke to him, so that, if I could win 

His senses back, he might the intermission 

Of his lost life dictate to me: I spoke as this on: 

XXIV. 

My boy, you are in this deep cave; you know 

From whence you came, and you will tell me soon: 
This cave is rather small, so you can't go 

About: 'Tis deep, and hides away the noon. 
So you cannot escape, nor hear the tune 

Of birds, nor see the light and glow of heaven; 
Nor can you see the day, when night is gone; 

The longest walk in here which you are given 
Is perhaps twenty paces, and you must turn there, even. 

XXV. 

Think now, and tell me what you think — you can! 

Tell me about your life — experiences 
That you have had, since this your life began. 

He spoke: Is there another World than this? 
How came you here to spoil this lasting peace? 

Where did you learn of this calm quiet reign? 
And are you real? Or of those fantasies 

Which are given birth only to plague my brain, 
Until 'tis swallowed by its parent in rending pain? 

XXVI. 

Go! Go! Oh torture me no longer! Go! 

I have enough to bring me misery! 
This World is full of it! The World is Woe! 

Oh do not curse me! Pray! Do not curse me! 
I cannot bear to look! I cannot see 

Thy form without a shudder creeping o'er 
My limbs — my soul — my all! — I beg of thee, 

Leave me — leave me — let me see thee no more! 
Let me remain in apathy, black, as before! 

XXVII. 

He ceased. I softly spoke to him and tried 

To raise the melancholy veil which hung 
Over his soul so heavily, but descried 

That 't seemed impossible, for he among 
The murk had lived till it could not be rung 

Out of it saturated so. I gazed 
At him thinking of touching songs I'd sung. 

When he upraised his head — I was amazed 
To hear him sing this song — but sung as one long dazed: 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 19 

1. 

Oh Misery— Oh Misery! 

I cannot thru thy cold depths see! 

Oh fly away! Oh fly away! 

Ye demons of my dying brain — 
Oh leave me here alone, I pray! 

Oh leave me to my Pain — my Pain 
Oh Misery— Oh Misery! 
I cannot thru thy cold depths see! 



I fly to fond Insanity 

Upon the wings of Apathy — 

Oh leave me in my flight alone! 

I do not wish thy presence here — 
My World is only dug for one — 

But one can breathe this atmosphere: 
Oh Misery— Oh Misery! 
I cannot thru thy cold depths see! 

3. 

I do not wish to see beyond 

The torture of my heartache fond: 

I'm happy here — my spouse is Pain — 

Our loved but doltish child is Sorrow: 
I wish for nothing else to reign — 

I wish for nothing else tomorrow: 
Oh Misery— Oh Misery! 
I cannot thru thy cold depths see! 



My thot, in which strength once was foison, 
Is painfully now turned to poison; 
My battles are with morbidness — 

My only peace is with the Devil — 
Oh Life, I call — I call for less 

Of life, and with it, less of evil! 
Oh Misery— Oh Misery! 
I cannot thru thy cold depths see! 



I see a light — I shun it, tho — 

For it is a light I should not know; 

I close my eyes and hurl myself 

With maddened brain and tortured soul 
Into a vast and unknown gulf^ — 

The Gulf of Death— of Life— of Dole! 
Oh Misery— Oh Misery! 
I cannot thru thy cold depths see! 



20 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 



Oh Darkness, come! Oh Darkness come! 
Oh, light the way to my dark home! 
My only hope Oblivion — 

My only life is darkness cold — 
My Death! My Death! I should not shun — 

I will not shun thy choking hold! 
Oh Misery— Oh Misery! 
I cannot thru thy cold depths see! 

7. 

I dash myself against the rocks 

Of Time, but Time — Time ever locks 

Its adamantine Gates of Death 

From me — I cannot enter there! 
But Death herself will leave her heath 

To take me on her steed, Night-mare! 
Oh Misery— Oh Misery! 
I cannot thru thy cold depths see! 

.8. 

I throw myself within thine arms — 

And blinded, stunned, with thy wild charms; 

Oh do not turn away from me! 

Oh give me what I would expect! 
Oblivion my hard life's fee — 

And not another curse bedecked! 
Oh Misery — Oh Misery! 
I cannot thru thy cold depths see! 

XXVIII. 

He finished suddenly, and hung his head 

As it had hung before. His voice had been 
Once sweet, but sounded now as if a dead 

Man sung within the tomb where he had lain 
Until the worms put life in him again; 

He ceased — the cavern echoed in a groan — 
A heavy, morbid groan, as one might in 

The depths of Hell imagine, when the moan 
Of sufferers had ceased, and echo wailed alone. 

XXIX. 

I gazed at him, half pity, half in awe, 

Until the heavy silence forced me speak: 

I spoke, and as I spoke I thot I saw 

An echo shudder thru his spirit weak: 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 21 

I tried to think — my soul was made so bleak 

By its surroundings, that I knew not what 
To say to him to aid his spirit" seek 

The comfort that it darkly craved, but that 
He'd lost distinction of amid his morbid lot. 

XXX. 

No place to sit, I leaned against the wall, 

And watched the awful stillness of his frame: 
His breathing seemed without a rise or fall. 

For ever his dead posture seemed the same. 
I almost looked for whence the stillness came. 

It was so awful — so deep — so oppressive — 
A kind of quiet that can have no name, 

For naming it would break the quiet, as if 
The breath — the very thot of naming were excessive! 

XXXI. 

Oh quietude! What art thou! What can'st thou 

Mean on this noisy, boisterous Earth of ours? 
Thou sweet, vague something which will never bow 

To Man: — Thou Mother of eternal hours! 
Thou vent thru which Time — Love — Life — all — aye pours 

In all thy mad confusion! Thou fond dream 
Of lovers and of fools! Thou God of bowers 

In Earth's wild fantasies! Thou who doth seem 
A nothingness, but art the infinite rash stream! 

XXXII. 

Thou curse! Thou blessing! Oh Infinity! 

Thou life of Death — thou death of Life — thou Hell 
Of Heaven! Thou Heaven of Hell! Thou whom shall be 

Forever God of All! As Worlds once fell 
At thy cold touch, so as thy lips may tell 

_ Worlds shall be born again! Wrecks shall be made — 
Built into Worlds — Suns — Stars innumerable! 

But, in thy writhing pain, shall never fade 
The glory of thy strength — the weakness of thy shade! 

XXXIII. 

Then as I gazed at him, he moved, and with 

A groan, stood up: and with a mad expression, 
Fearful but fearless, as one new to death. 

He lookt around; his eyes pierced me with passion. 
Until, with that self-torturing oppression. 

Born of long hours in solitude, when mad. 
He closed his eyes; without an intermission. 

He walkt around the cave, as if he had 
Been born with the cave's soul, which with his strength did fade. 



22 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

XXXIV. 

I watched him as he walked: His face appeared 

A sallow mask, but cast on a strong form, 
Which was immovable. Even when he neared, 

I could not see a sign of that wild storm 
Which raged within, for all the woe which tore him, 

B'ody and soul, was lockt behind closed eyes 
And clenched teeth, which hid all that alarm, 

As night doth hide the tumult of the skies, 
And cause one to, at their black travail, but surmise. 

XXXV. 

And then as suddenly as he had started, 

He stopt before his seat, and sat again, 
Stiff as a corpse; and then his eye lids parted. 

And a hot fire seemed gleaming from his brain — 
Fed by his soul, and kindled by his pain: 

He lookt straight at the opposite wall, until 
His eyeballs grew cold, glazed, and dry, and then 

Placed his face in his hands, as if to kill 
The sight of some vile monster which brot him all his ill. 

XXXVI. 

A violent trembling seized his frame, and he 

Shook as the tattered banner of some ship 
Which had outlived its use, and on the sea 

Floated a derelict, to dive and dip 
With every wave and breeze, until its trip 

At last should be completed, far beneath 
The water's surface, where others roll and tip. 

Speeding as he, perhaps with a freer breath — 
Yet all with but one destiny — relentless death! 

XXXVII. 

He trembled and he shook — then suddenly 

He ceased and raised his head as if to speak; 
He struggled for a moment — motioned me 

To sit beside him: I obeyed as meek 
As circumstances prompted me to seek — 

For I felt for him and I do believe 
I would have died for him, if death would break 

The chains which bound his soul, and caused to grieve 
In such an obscure manner, which I felt ne'er could leave. 

XXXVIII. 

The thot flashed thru me of the Leper, which 

Appeared upon his back, but I did not 
Have heart to think of self, altho a switch. 

As if a torn cloth passing me, I thot, 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 23 

Had grazed my neck behind — but I was fraught 

With what I looked upon as my own task — 
To help this Youth recall that which he'd sought — 

His life — his living — and tear off the mask, 
Forgetfulness, by aiding in what e'er he'd ask. 

XXXIX. 

I did not speak, but silently awaited 

Him to begin. It perhaps were a minute 
Before his puzzling agony abated, 

That he could part his lips: but to begin it 
He seemed quite lost — nor when begun, what in it 

To say, he did not seem to know — I awaited, 
Howe'er, till he began, then as a linnet. 

When 'wakened in the morn, and with rest sated, 
Slowly begins her song, the following he stated: 

XL. 

I feel I cannot stand it longer! I 

Have fought, and given up, and fought again. 
Until life to me is but misery — 

Oh misery — Oh misery and pain. 
I am relieved, but only to begin 

My torture o'er, until I cry for death! 
I curse the Gods who have so paved me in 

That I cannot withdraw from my own breath — 
No answer but my words,, which the walls echoeth, 

XLI. 

Only to torture me with more of self — 

Only to bury me — to sink me further 
Into this everlasting, pitless gulf, 

Where Soul and Mind combat with on another — 
Casting one's life — one's sense into a pother 

Imbued with harshest Pain — a wild desire 
For strength — for force! Suppressed down by the other — 

A weakness — deepest reek — which doth require, 
But which doth spurn the strength — the force of passion's fire — 

XLII. 

The glow of life — the all — the all of youth! 

Refused by Life itself! By Life! I wallow 
In dankest Hell! I love, but spurn the Truth! 

I see a Light, and it I long to follow — 
To tear! and to absorb! But then this wall! Oh! 

This terrible unrelenting Wall! It closes 
Around me! Tears! Oh God! Till it doth swallow 

My very Soul — my Life! Thy Mind reposes 
In direst, rankest swamps, when it should bed in roses! 



24 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 



XUII. 

Here he arose, and walked about the floor, 

With every fibre, nerve, and muscle, taut. 
And almost screeched: I cannot stand it more! 

As I am haunted here, here I must haunt! 
Here all my misery has had its font! 

The rest of misery shall be from me! 
My soul shall rise, a Devil, and shall daunt 

The Earth! The All! The Universe! I see 
Where even Hell itself shall from my terror flee! 

XLIV. 

I die! I die in life! I live in death! 

I hurl my self against the cage of Life! 
I choke as fire upon my very breath, 

And revel — yea, I revel in deep grief! 
I revel while I welter! In mad strife — 

In blackest agony — in direst pain — 
I wildly rave! — I do not wish relief! 

For with relief there comes but Hell again! 
I die! — Death is an awful life for one to deign! 

XLV. 

Did I hear you say: Fight? Oh, I have fought! 

Oh! I have fought with the Devil and with God! 
Fight! Fight! But fight for what! Come tell me what! 

Fig'ht! Fight thru life, but for a covering sod! 
I die! But hurl my oaths to the abode 

Of all — atho I know not what that is! 
Here I am pent, and if I sieze a rod — 

A passion mad to hurl at that and this — 
Can I be blamed — can I be cast as only his — 

XLVI. 

The Devil's? Nay! No more than I am God's! 

I am a product of them both, and act 
As He — that Janus-faced Spirit whom one lauds 

As One! And Good — ^and Good! When 'tis a fact 
They are both one! A roaring cataract 

Of vast Infinity — Eternity! 
I hate Him! And I curse! This mire I've tracked 

Must be my grave — my monument: — My sky — 
My Earth it was before! Wild vision! Now I die! 

XLVII. 

He fell against the wall, and stood there staring, — 
Rigid and stiff and stark. I hardly knew 

Whether he was dead or not, and hardly daring 
To move, lest by a motion I should do 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 25 

Some unseen harm to that which he had to 

His soul so linked — monstrous quietude! 
A passion dead — but dying, did not go 

To naught, but clung o'er all, to deeply brood 
In all — the life and death — of this vast solitude! 

XLVIII. 

His soul seemed like a flame, which lapped itself 

Into oblivion, by its wild draft; 
Or like a Demon — a bright, cruel elf, 

Who flew to nothing when he madly laughed — 
Flew on his laughter's wings, when as a shaft 

His heart had played against itself, and tore 
Itself — its life — with its Satanic craft. 

Until no longer could he fly and soar 
In his Demonic fields, — dissolved to meet no more; 

XLIX. 

Or like a thot which plays upon the brain, 

Until it is played out — sped to that vast 
Realm of sweet sorrow, and still sweeter pain — 

The home of thots and dreams which have flown past, 
Never to come again. Where flies at last 

Our love — our life — a realm of lucid space — 
A boundless crystal, o'er which all Time has passed — 

The womb of the eternal hours — the face 
Of Love, that Power by which the World can never cease! 

L. 
Oh Death! Oh Death! Oh Death of cruel passion! 

When thou hast lost thy peace, thou art a fiend! 
A fiend of terror, wliich, with haunted gnashing, 

Teareth every thing unto thy ghastly end; 
But come! My bosom too, would to be penned — 

Be clutched — be torn unto thy frozen breast, 
There — there — so thou can'st all thy glory send — 

Thy cold oblivion, when tightly pressed 
To thee — fond, hated, yet thou most beloved beast! 

Canto III. 
I. 

Oh Love! Eternal essence of all Time! 

Progenitor of Worlds! Thou unknown Power! 
God! Idol! All! Ethereal— Sublime! 

Oh Thou, thru which the Universe doth poar 
Oh Thou, the Universe! Almighty hour! 

I worship thee — My only God! My Love! 
Spirit! Spirit of Unrestraint — Oh, more 

Than All— the All of All! The splendor of 
The Soul of Souls, thru which the All is born — doth move! 



26 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

II. 

Thou sweet conspirator of Fate, oh breathe, 

Breathe as my Soul! Inspire my Heart to know 
Thee as thou should'st be known. Far underneath 

A battle rages — rages on thy brow; 
Fan off the hideous fumes — do not allow ^ 

Thy parts to blind themselves, and not to see 
Even themselves: cause thy sweet light to flow 

O'er all, in all its crystal purity. 
To lave the slur which hath been cast o'er them and thee! 

III. 

The Morn is dawning. Thru a troubled night 

Thy true conspiracy hath not left all, 
For 'twas imbued with all thy silent might, 

And stood supreme, and will, tho all may fall! 
Within the soul perhaps thou didst turn pale, 

But as thou wert the soul, thou could'st not die. 
But lived and struggled in thy troubled vale, 

Till, lo! Thy Morn shall soon illume thy sky. 
And Love and Truth shall reign, while Bigotry shall fly. 

IV. 

Thy Dawn shall not be heralded by Peace, 

For strife and madness must expend itself; 
But when a raging storm doth sink to cease, 

The Earth is guided by a calmer elf, 
Then Hearts will not be bought and sold for pelf. 

For Love can love not gold, nor can Truth linger. 
For it doth aye absorb its love and self, 

For ways cold and mechanical. The finger 
Of Time will not point out a greedy, gilded singer. 

V. 

The lig'ht of other days must shine on thee. 

And thou upon the light of other days: 
But now thou art a calm, wild prophecy — 

An element of Poesy and Praise, 
Which, as they linger in their dreamy ways. 

Can see thee with a penetrating eye — 
Can penetrate the murky, cloudy haze 

Of ages, which hangs o'er thee drowsily. 
But with their stormy clouds, protect thine azure sky. 

VI. 

Before me 'rose the Land — a place of brightness — 

A place of calm tranquility, yet wild: 
My soul responded, for the very lightness 

Of this Unknown upblew, and then beguiled 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 27 

The soul into the peace of a young child, 

And cast a sweet serenity o'er all 
By obliterating all the woe once piled 

Before the soul's dazed eye, forming a wall 
Of misery, cast ruggedly where'er it fall. 

VII. 

Calm music from the distance reached my ears, 

And laved my soul with all its liquid glow, 
Until the thot that e'er the World knew cares, 

Vanished to where thot now refuses to go 
If mingled with sorrow. Calm and slow 

The atmosphere was billowed in the wake 
Of that sweet sound, until I did not know 

Which was myself, and which I did partake 
Of that mad charity, which was for the World's sake. 

VIII. 

My eyes were dazzled with the distant art 

Which seemed to wing upon the very sound — 
Nature upbuilt upon Nature's own heart, 

And colored all by Nature's light around: 
The Earthly grandeur there was amply crowned 

With Heaven's celestial glow, which gently wavered 
Upon the breath of Daemons wild, whose bound 

Was all the sky, until the Earth was savored 
With all the justness there will be, when Man is favored 

IX. 

By Man, and false oppression will be spent. 

I stood — all was so still I could not move, 
For the calm spirit of the scene had lent 

A portion of itself to me. The grove 
Beyond the habitation seemed in love 

With all of Earth and Earth's, for low it hung, 
With its protection mild, as doth a dove 

Lay its weak wings — yet strong — over its young. 
When calm and peace are reigning, for a sweet care among. 

X. 

The sun was setting 'hind a sunny day, 

And mellowed all with its last rays of red 
And gentle coloring, which flew alway 

And mingled with the Spirit: and it spread 
A soul of peace, which intermingled 

With the bright carpet, till the sky's floor gleamed 
As night itself, behind the daylight dead. 

When the soft moon is telling all that seemed 
To lover's eyes could never be more than but dreamed. 



28 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

XL 

And then the music ceased, and silence reigned: 

The stillness seemed to gently beckon me 
Out of my waking slumber, so I resigned, 

And sauntered o'er the unresisting lea, 
Which rested ere its sleeping, dreamily, 

And smiled into the Heaven's open face, 
Which it reflected, till I could but see 

Immortal smiles light up immortal space, 
To be winged down again on the first morning rays. 

XII. 

A calm dell, fixed betwixt the stars above. 

And those below, which seemed to melt and turn 
Into the landscape: and there, pillowed, love 

Was life and death and World: there love did burn 
Perpetually, as dreams within an urn 

Encasing ancient ashes, or the new. 
And over all I ever could discern. 

Truth lingered, as the early morning dew 
Sparkling and hyalined upon the Rocks of Rue. 

XIII. 

The many-eyed night whispered its sighs, 

And told sweet tales and of its paths Elysian, 
O'er which Daemons and Zephyrs cross the skies, 

And loiter while they make a new decision 
Of music calm, or if they'll cast a Vision 

Of unborn Beauty to some sleeping Maid, 
Or in her slumbering ear, an intercession 

Plead for some Youth, who in his dreams had said 
In fervent accents, her own name, e'er they did fade. 

XIV. 

The World, pillowed on Love, was calmly sleeping, 

Lulled in its slumber by its own sweet dreams, 
Of gentle music and of Love in weeping 

Its pleasures, sweet, away in lucid streams. 
Which gather as they fall the all which seems 

Of Heaven — the Earth when it is left by Crime, 
And Man may bask in his own Spirit's beams 

And be cast in the harmony of Time, 
Future and Past, as light of Love, and Night, and Rhyme. 

XV. 

Oh Night! Love's own ambrosia! Calm and sweet! 

Thou gentle light of Life, linger awhile, 
And lave my aching heart — doth it still beat? 

Oh, drown me in the placid, painful smile, 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 29 

And let me breathe myself away, the while 

Thou art caressing me, and whispering, 
Tales of how darkness high must ever pile 

O'er Worlds and Ages, and then sadly sing 
The lives of souls as mine, in all their wandering, 

XVI. 

And of their deaths — how they went back to thee — 

How they dissolved into the night, and are 
Now mingled in the night — in that dark sea — 

As mingled is the light of a fallen star, 
Within thy breathless bosom, echoed far, 

Withhold no secret from my soul — 'tis dying — 
Oh, press thy lips close to its anxious ear. 

And make it one with thee! A gentle sighing 
Methot came on the breath of Gods, as Time was flying. 

XVII. 

A murmur born of stillness hovered o'er 

The waking air, as if the sleeping birds 
Were casting off their dreams, which then did soar 

Into the Daemoned space, and in bright herds 
Of harmony, as do the winged words 

Of waking lovers, as they ope their eyes 
And gaze about amid the tranquil hoards 

Of sleep-sought blisses, and of dream-born sighs, 
And slowly feel the truth of their sweet pained surprise. 

XVIIL 

The night began to wane in sweet suppression, 

And morn began to dress the East in gold, 
And tried to tell by its only expression, 

What in the evening would by day be told. 
And as the tresses of night were uprolled, 

The birds awoke, caressed from their sleep, 
While they, with waking voices, clear and bold, 

Told all the Earth that day had come to keep 
Them on their Fated paths, and store what Life must reap. 

XIX. 

And some, awakened by the waning night, 

Feared that it was their own Love's eyes which went 
Back into darkness, where they'd found their light, 

Sank back with all their light in pleasure spent: 
But 'twas a fear to give them merriment. 

Planned by the stars, and whispered to the moon, 
Who gently drew each ray out of the tent 

Found 'neath their eyelids, and with a dreamt tune. 
Left them in darkness where its beams had just been strewn. 



30 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

XX. 

Like the broad echoes of a Tempean Spring, 

The Day was heralded, and light began 
To pour in golden streamlets, murmuring 

The sleeping songs which trembled on its van. 
And into little gusts of glory ran. 

Casting the memory which was once the song 
Into the pulse, the heart, the mind of Man, 

And spurring him to rise and be among 
The many peaceful beings which know Nature's tongue. 

XXL 

In action and being a great phalanx 

Each species, and who task their own accord — 
The sun which shines upon the grassy banks 

Is by each one enjoyed, without a word 
Of discontent, or be he beast or bird 

Or man; and life is individual 
Yet all to one society afford; 

The richness and the harmony of all 
Resounded Love and Life as in a Dreamland dale. 

XXII. 

Their pleasant deeds of life are done, — their art — 

The very warmth that breathes within their veins — 
Is reveled in, to drain the trembling heart, 

And life renew, — where that vast Beauty reigns. 
Nature's own cultivation claims the plains 

And forests wild, except where man has built 
An artful preference, and where he deigns 

To there accept, and without Beauty killed. 
The glory with which the World will be and should be filled. 

XXIII. 

Beauty is wild, and so the wild is Beauty: 

A mind of Truth is calm but when excited — 
Excited by some new high plan or duty; 

And with abstractions it is most delighted — 
With weirdness with which the baser is affrighted. 

And exclamations which would tear a spirit 
More dense and more unwieldy hath alighted 

It to the joy that it must e'er inherit 
If Earth will claim its own, and as its own, will bear it. 

XXIV. 

Beauty is Love, and so all Love is Beauty, — 
Aye! Love, the God-head of that Trinity, 

Beauty, Truth, Purity — and is the root. He 
Who does not realize can never see 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 31 

The being who has claimed Futurity. 

The light waned slowly, while it softly clung 
To the far landscape, and to the far lea, 

Until the daylight wearily then hung 
Its drowsy head, the hymns of the mad sea among. 

XXV. 

And night time came again, but 'twas another: 

The Moon arose 'mong whisperings of rage. 
And every wind seemed vieing with the other 

To tell the worst that it was able to page. 
The air gave inklings — which were low and vague 

Of glorious disturbance in its heart, 
Which caused each moment almost seem an age. 

In waiting for the stillness to depart — 
A stillness, loud in all of its uncanny art. 

XXVI. 

Hung high, in Heaven's boldest outlines given. 

The Daemon of high laughter hung asway. 
Mumbling the early thunder of the heaven. 

And cursing at the coward, night chased day. 
Which ever to the dream-mounted night gave way, 

To seek another clime where night had tired, 
And try its spirits disturbed to pacify 

In mocking glow and feeble passion fired, 
Till it again, in fear of death and night, retired. 

XXVII. 

And then the Daemon broke ou't in his passion, 

And roared and echoed in the wildest laughter, 
And beat the elements in his own fashion 

Into a fury of rejoicing rapture — 
While their high raving peals were echoed after. 

From which their breath heaved in a wild emotion, 
While he beat time upon his soul-built rafter 

By swaying forests and by the loud ocean, 
As they responded to his strong and intense motion. 

XXVIII. 

Nature rejoiced, and Man, as part of Nature, 

Rejoiced with an inbred ecstasy, 
Until his very lineaments and feature 

Responded, as does to the wind, the sea — 
Quiet when quiet, raging, ragingly, ; 

But ever with an innate merriment 
Which only as passion e'er can be 

When little fear to nothingness be sent. 
From whence it sprang, by littleness alone unpent: 



32 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

XXIX. 

For Fear is born of Crime, a feeble child — 

Fathered in incest by the fiend, Oppression, 
Who gnaw each other, and with a lust wild 

Smother their child upon the dregs of passion, 
But Fear thrives best when treated in this fashion, 

For were it ceased, it would no more be Fear — 
But it would turn then, in the intermission, 

To Hate, who ever does the same clothes wear, 
And knowing not itself, does against allegiance swear. 

XXX 

I saw a little Phantasm there above, 

A-straddle on a playful, darting cloud. 
Which, by its dazzling beauty, told the Love 

Was ruler of the storm: that even loud 
Fury was, as calm Peace, to that Love bowed — 

That Love which woke Chaos into the Earth — 
That Love which woke the Sun, passionate, proud — 

That Love from which wild Heaven is given birth — 
That Love which makes, and makes all universal worth. 

XXXL 

Love makes the use of things. For all things are 

For nothing if they are not meant for Love, 
What good is Man? What the light of a star? 

To light Mankind — but why does Mankind move? 
His very movements only tend to prove 

He is for naught — he only happened be — 
He only happens live, see, die or rove — 

All Earth is but Fate's little and chanced fee — 
So why not love? 'Tis just as well as Hate for thee! 

XXXIL 

And thus I felt, for Mankind then was not 

Upon the scene, and to that Love pollute 
Which hangeth o'er — with which the air is fraught — 

Which Solitude inspires, serene and mute: 
Mute to the outer ear, but which doth put 

The Soul's own ear into vibrations sweet, 
Which speaks the Soul's own language — singeth — but 

Does not screech curses — writhe where Peace should sit- 
And does not make the Soul a contaminated pit. 

XXXIIL 

I once saw a small bird fly past, and wondered 
What good it was — and why it flew about: 

And then I thot: Perhaps that bird has pondered 

The good of Man — its thot was mute, no doubt. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 33 

The measurement of all things must be bowed 

To selfishness — ^^and as each has its price, 
Selfishness, the fond King of Man, has put ^ 

A price on every head which doth arise 
Into Man's narrow ken — and on Man's own likewise. 

XXXIV. 

But I must turn — and leave my fondest Dream — 

My Dream of what the World gives not today— 
My Dream which lives within me — which doth seem 

The reason for my life — its strength to stay: — 
My life is night — it is the dawn of day; 

My Dream! Thou enterest in my life and makest 
It life — the all of life within my sway — 

My thirst for the Ideal thou only slakest 
By melting my mad Soul— the while my life thou takest. 

XXXV. 

How many hast thou cursed, oh Dream, thou cursed! 

Thou feedest on the very Soul — the Spirit — 
As vipers on a sterile breast are nursed. 

By suckling all the life's blood that comes near it 
Until, with all consumed, but Death inherit! 

Thou gildest for the dawn — before the night,— 
Thou weavest Beauty — but thou wilt not wear it,— 

Thou singest songs,— then screechest with thy might 
.|bo that thy Present with the Future must unite. 

XXXVI. 

But Dream! My hope is thou! Thou art life to me! 

Thou art my Life — Yea, art mv very Being 

My Hope— my only Beacon on Life's sea! 

I And to thy light over the waves I am fleeing, 

As does a moth— but for the lack of seeing: 

Thou blindest me with thy bright majesty 
A very littleness among thy feeing: 

Sweet Dream of Love, forget not all must die! 
As thou art my soul now, my soul must then be thee! 

Canto IV. 
I. 

'[The Grotto looked just as it did of old: 
, Dark, dreary, and the air appeared to moan 
Under its murky weight, as it hung cold 

And dead upon itself. Ah, how alone! 
phe very being of the place seemed flown! 
i I felt my way, and wearily trudged along— 
park vacancy had claimed this as her own, 

Aru-^"^t-^"^°^^^^^^ '^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^o^^' hoary' tongue, 
Awhile she had sung a silent and sepulchral song. 



34 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 



II. 

A sunken mound beneath his former seat 

Was all that claimed distinction from the rest: 
Beneath the sod which long had held his feet 

In his mad struggles, he was now oppressed: 
I sat beside the grave naught could molest, 

And gazed at this inscription: Here lieth one 
Who hated God and Man: He did his best — 

Remember him by that — and that alone: 
He lieth here — but that does not mean his life is gone! 

III. 

Oh cruel Time! Come, dry thy frozen tears! 

Thou must not linger here, for thou must speed 
To carve out of Eternity, thy years, 

And label each, as thou dost carve them: Dead. 
Here lieth one who did his best — his head 

Wrapt in dead madness: That thy lone reward. 
Oh Time, for anyone who dares to lead 

A life of misery and hell: He fared 
As anyone who with his Soul and Thee hath warred! 

IV. 

Why should he not? What is the Soul but Hell? 

A monster tearing self with teeth and claws, 
While it emits a gaseous breathing, fell, 

And dedicates its self-consuming laws 
Unto itself, ceasing itself for cause — 

A cause that is itself, nevertheless. 
For there inserted is the ever clause, 

Nature's own hand of labor. Selfishness — 
And thus the World goes on with new woes to redress. 

V. 

Nature is Man's restraint — his innate pride, 

Born with his breath, if it be not befouled. 
Is all he owns, and all should be his guide: 

But with his very soul for splendor sold — 
Swilled by his demon God, a coward, bold, 

And mimicked by his feebled self, by that, 
What can be had more than the tale that's told? 

Will any more be given by this? What 
Can be expected with false, misered splendor sought? 

VI. 

But I am free — I live within my World — 
I bow to nothing: I spend not my ire 

On World, where dankest Hell would be imperiled: 
I bow to nothing — even my soul of fire 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 35 

Cannot move me if I aught else desire! 

Ye clouds of Love! I yearn for thee! I yearn 
Oh Love! thou art more ponderous, but higher, 

The more I gaze at thee — ah, I discern 
Within thine aspect glowing, my skull-casted urn! 

VII. 

Here lieth one! His little world is gone, 

That he is gone: How many more like him 
Have lived within a little world, alone! 

He lived his motto: To but sink, we swim: 
The day is lighted only to grow dim; 

Live ye for that — live ye that if ye dare! 
He lived, a blighted, tho a living limb 

On a dead tree — but fruit he could not bear 
Upon the Mount of Dread, above the Vale of Fear. 

VIII. 

He fought the tempests that would nip the buds — 

But fighting, shook the buds down to the ground: 
Maddened he lookt — but ever there intrudes 

A murky mist, which lolls and heaves around 
Up from the Vale of Fear — a silent sound 

Betrays its speeding up the Mount of Dread, 
And unprotected, with wild Fury bound. 

Ever he breathed, till by the fumes he fed 
A frenzy in himself which flung him to the Dead. 

IX. 

How fare ye now? Has sweet oblivion torn 

The chain of misery which choked thy breath? 
Has thy mad soul — could it again be born? 

Or has it merely sunk further beneath 
That foaming Sea? How do you fare in death? 

Has not thy soul consumed itself? How could 
It linger when ignited on thy path 

Of life — and by itself, by its red mood. 
Which burned itself into a fearful solitude? 

X. 

Fond Death — fond, darksome Death! Wilt e'er reveal 

The secrets which thou boldest in thy heart? 
Thy secrets to which everyone must kneel — 

Yea! Everyone must kneel to form a part 
pf thy Philosophy — rewardless art! 

Rewardless if 'tis death— and worse if life! 
Dh Death! The Universe is thy cold mart, 

Where souls are bought and sold for onlv grief— 
|\nd that wild Love which is, oh Death, thy great belief! 



36 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

XI. 

Tired of my life, and of the life of Man, 

I placed my destiny within an Isle 
Hung in the stars' Mediterranean, 

And lighted by the sky's bright, azure smile. 
'Twas set, a Gem, within the Heavens profile — 

Set there as is the color of the sky — 
And pillowed on faint light, there to beguile 

A tired spirit, as love in the eye 
Of One, when every other joy hath faded away. 

XII. 

Love is born of heedlessness, so Love is Life — 

This little Isle appeared the Life of Love; 
Do not touch me for fear of future grief — 

I am too pure to touch — I am above 
The red, base element where thou dost move! 

And thus it seemed to speak — with outstretched arm! 
My Spirit hastened, as within a grove 

Of luxury forbidden, one throws alarm 
Behind, and enters — ^tho it ever follows near him, 

XIII. 

The crystal wavelets of the beaming sky 

Laughed up unto the shore, and mingled there 
As laughter mingles in a lover's eye, 

And casts its lucid echo to the air: 
I lookt on all, and with a sweet despair 

Born on the breath of those small, futile waves 
Which ever dashed, but to again repair 

To fall back to their liquid bed, which laves 
Them with wild sleep, till they again must leave their caves 

XIV. 

Of dashing hyaline, to rise again, 

But fall back with a sigh: and so I felt; 
And yet I soon forgot that little pain 

Which did into my very living melt, 
And as a Daemon 'tween two glories held, 

I stood, unconscious of the innate meaning 
Of either, dazed by the first glow of gild. 

Which hid with beauty, without beauty screening. 
The vast philosophy which was then to me leaning 

XV. 

Behind a mask of splendor wierd: such splendor! 

Such splendor that would dazzle Elfin Kings 
Into a trance, the glow of which would render 

Such dreams of awed Perfection, and such things 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 37 



Of Beauty that only a Trance e'er sings, 

That they could never wake, but would sleep on 

Until they flew away on a Daemon's wings. 

And no one would e'er know where they were gone, 

Except the thots of waves, and zephyr's dreams, alone, 

XVI. 

That Beauty is the greatest thot of living — 

The thot is life itself: life is a dream, — 
To all, a heavy, fiendish languor giving, — 

To some, a thot which does not hardly deem 
Itself a thot, so vague its glow doth seem 

Even to itself — but still 'tis all inspiring — 
'Tis awful in its contemplation to him 

Who dares to yearn for it, and never tiring, 
Haunts that which sweetly haunts, till both in light expiring, 

XVII. 

The Dream is finished, and the Dreamer sped 

Into that which was worshipped — Eternity 
Alone can claim the Ideals of the Dead! 

And all within the power of that wierd Sea, 
Which claims its only bounds. Infinity! 

Oh, thou cold fire! Oh quench my brain of woe! 
Nay! Nay! I ask for naught, not e'en of thee! 

Come! Do thy worst — for even it must go — 
Go back to thy womb, anthropophagus, to sow 

XVIII. 

The seed of others — other lives and deaths — 

Others for woe and hell and bitter strife! 
And why? I was awakened by bright wreaths 

Of silver mist arising, as if life 
Within the bosom of the isle were rife — 

Too much for its sweet strength, so it was given 
In little gusts to brighten o'er the grief 

Within the World, and make it as the Heaven 
Its Destiny proclaims to truth in some enliven. 

XIX. 

The mist arose out of a glistening fountain, 

Set as a glow, pellucid, — such a glow 
That barely could, as it gushed from the mountain 

Crowning the Isle, distinguished be, for so 
Alike the sparkling air it was, that no 

Eye, but that of the spirit of the place 
Could see it there, unless the mist did show 

A little change within the happy face 
Of this mysterious land, begemmed in azure space. 



38 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

XX. 

Up thru the breathless air, in daedalous 

Curves shaped as Beauty would, it o'er did hover, 
As Beauty, unaffected, o'er the brows. 

Sent from the fountain-eyes of a true lover 
Lingers, and casts a blessedness above her: 

As this the mist arose, as delicate 
As Beauty ever is to eyes, or over, 

Casting a calm serenity o'er Fate, 
And making sweet all that, so formed, it could dictate. 

XXI. 

And as this tranquil mist of Beauty rose, 

It slowly took a shape, as if the breath 
Of one of Beauty's angels did enclose 

It softly in her proud tho gentle faith. 
And shape it as it would, as o'er its path 

It penetrated with a sort of wonder, — 
Knowing, but seeking what its knowledge saith. 

As a sweet pastime for its thot to ponder, 
And artlessly, as Beauty liveth, making fonder 

XXII. 

The aspect of all living, tho but for 

An unpremeditated sweetness in its bosom: 
I gazed intensely at what I did adore, 

When lo! The budding mist had formed a blossomi 
Ye Fates of Truth! 'Tis sad that no one knows them, 

Nor ever can, for as they form a Vision, 
Or many Visions, they as promptly lose them — 

They flee in peaceful fright to their Elysian 
Homes, after a short — ah! much too short — ^an earthly session! 

XXIII. 

But could, it be! Be that this one would linger! 

Strange Land of Mist — oh, what can ye produce? 
Strange Land of Sweeter Strangeness, art thou a singer 

Of things yet unattempted by any Muse 
Or God or Goddess? Born of what strange hues 

Art thou, that I can even expect a light 
From thy deep womb which will not — cannot lose 

Its brightness unaccountable? Oh Night! 
Come! do thy worst! at least a moment will be bright! 

XXIV. 

Slowly it formed, as does the waking sight 

Of some strange wierdness — sweet because 'tis strange — 
After a deep hewn and dream-winged night 

Has left the thot o'er its vast cycled range, 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 39 

And with the day, doth its throne of mist exchange: 

I gazed in hoped, expected wonder, as 
It slowly in the light did sway and change. 

And turn to denser Beauty, and did pass 
Into a Vision, which does perpetual space englass. 

XXV. 

Mirrored in loveliness, the Vision shone 

With all the Beauty of a skyey trance, 
When Love's fond Daemons sway, and sway alone — 

And darkness doth the Beauty but enhance; 
And thus my Soul allowed a better chance 

For the wild brightness of the Vision to be 
Absorbed with the whole Spirit. The light dance 

Of breaking Beauty's rays glode awfully, 
And reared into a sight of Love eternal, free! 

XXVI. 

Sweet Dream of Beauty! Light of Life's own eyes! 

Thou fairest of all Light and Light's wild beaming! 
Thou Vision of Elysian summer skies! 

Thou essence of the All, what art thou dreaming? 
Look not on me! for that wild glance is teeming 

With madness — mild and sweet, tho unrelenting. 
Which tears my soul, and burns it with its gleaming. 

Until to thy fierce loveliness down bending, 
It hopes — it prays for as this moment sweet, an ending! 

XXVII. 

And Ending! Gracious Goddess of all Being! 

Knowest thou that? Dost thou know its wild meaning? 
With all thy passive passions ever fleeing, 

Dost thou know what an ending is — that screening 
Of all high hopes — of all — where all is leaving? 

Oh, list thee to my Spirit madly crying! 
Cease thee a moment in thy cruel spinning 

Of gossamer Fate, oh Goddess of vain sighing! 
Goddess! Oh, Goddess! Death of Mercy! I am dying! 

XXVIII. 

And there she dreams, a spirit buoyed on mist — 

As Beauty buoyed on Love! Wafting above, 
The air, as by Her very presence kist, 

Sparkles and ripples, as a Lake of Love: 
I gaze entranced — and I see Her move! 

Now, more distinct She glows, a brand of Joy! 
A Faery — Nymph of Fire within a grove 

Of crystal meditation, to enjoy 
The curse bestowed on worshippers, with manner coy! 



40 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

XXIX. 

Creation wild! Thou art! I know thou art! 
Emblem of Love of Beauty — and of Truth! 

Thou takest all I have — my Love, my Heart! 

Encouched upon a cloud — the fire of Youth — 

She shines — but Beauty — Beauty has no ruth — 
I am bewildered — lo! I swim — I fall — 

I know not, for with Life — with Love — with both- 
Absorbed — burned — flow to Her — my life — Love — all — 

I am no more — my expiring Life is but a Call! 

XXX 

And there She is! a Star! all else is gone! 

And nearer — nearer — I am drawn to Her! 
Worlds fall to naught — there — there She is alone! 

The Universe — ^the Strength of Hell is there! 
Brighter — and still more bright, until the air — 

The very Space — ^the whole is there involved — 
A Flame — and naught else is — all unaware 

Of Life — of Death — of everything unsolved — 
My all — my Love — my Life — my Spirit is dissolved! 



FRAGMENTS FROM CONRAD. 

A Dramatical Poem. 

Action Number One. 
Scene: The Plateau. Time: Evening. 
The Spirit of Solitude: 
Hear I a call from some unknown? 

Or can it be that it 
Comes darting on the thot's breeze blown — 

Whence it to me doth flit 
From some experienced child of mine, 

Whose Soul hath lit 
Upon my bosom long ago — 

And maketh thus a maternal sign, 
What he would do? 
Methinks it is an ancient child 
Who calleth in this noble wild 

And I must welcome him, 

For the evening groweth dim. 
My Vassals! My Slaves! 
From the groan of the Mountains — the breath of the Fountains- 

And some from the silvery air — 
From the blue, liquid eye of the cloud-ridden sky — 

I charge ye to 'proach from your lair! 
I charge ye, my Vassals, to leave your bright glass halls, — 
And others to leave your calm caves; 
I charge every daughter to leave her home water — 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 41 

I charge ye to come, Oh my Slaves! 

I charge ye appear to me — all to come here to me, — 

From the Sea, Sky, and Air of your laves; 

And then I command that ye come from the Land — 

That ye come whom fond Earth hath once given ye birth: — 

I charge ye to come, Oh my Slaves! 

The Spirits of Earth: 
We are here! We are here! 

The Spirits of Air: 
Aye! To thee we appear! 

The Spirits of Water: 
We come to thee, Mistress, aye! aye! 

The Spirits of Sky: 
Aye! We who are thine have now come to thy shrine! 

All: 
From the Earth, the Air, Water and Sky! 

The Spirit of Solitude: 
Are ye here to obey what e'er I may say? 
Have ye come all prepared for your task? 
For I wish that ye lead your paths with all speed — 
And do what I now seek to ask. 

The Queen of the Spirits of Water: 
We are ever ready for thee! 
We who above all adore thee! 
We are ready that thou sayest 
Anything — and that thou mayest! 
We come from the slow beating surge of the sea — 
But which we would leave and forever, for thee! 
We ride on the calm rolling waves in our glee — 
The calm rolling — rolling — calm waves of the sea! 
We bask on its mountains so soft the day long, 
And list to the rocks as they join in its song; 
We dive in the crystal — we float on the blue, — 
And we do just what pleasure directs us to do: 
We love and we are loved: we live to bring joy — 
And alleviate all that may tend to annoy. 
Our lives are as calm or as wild as the ocean — 
We smile with delight or we rave with emotion: 
For you must know the sea is not 
Always with but calmness fraught! 
It ever doth not weep and sigh — 
But oft doth whirl and fling and cry: 
And cry and scream in hideous pain — 
And writhe and roll and writhe again! 
In terrible travail oft doth flail 
'Til Earth and Air and Sky doth pale — 
Until they don a hideous mask — 
To 'gage them in a bloody task 
With murder in their eyes, to kill 



42 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

The Ocean militant, until 

The elements all rage and boil 

In their Herculean toil, 

And then when all have spent their wrath 

Wild Ocean breathes a quiet, mild breath, 

And calms once again to its previous peace, — 

For the grandeur of quiet, its battle doth cease. 

But we leave the Ocean for thee — 

We who above all adore thee! 

We shall do whate'er thou mayest 

Wish, if only that thou sayest. 

Speak! And we shall hear whatever 

Thou may'st say, and never, never, 

Will we cease until we've finished 

All our task, e'en we've diminished 

To a shadow, every Spirit, 

Of our former life, or near it; 

Hear it. Mistress — Hear it! Hear it! 

The Queen of the Spirits of Earth: 
Oh, Mistress! We are ready, too. 
To humbly bend ourselves to thee — 
Aye! We are ready aught to do 
That thou mayest ever wish that we 
Should do; and do it cheerfully: 
Yea! More than cheerfully we'll toil, 
For we are justly proud to be 
Slaves of a Sprite of such sweet guile: 
And we shall aid thy friends — ^^thine enemies we'll foil. 
We echo from the bowels of 
The Earth, and there we go to rest. 
And there we live in warmth and love. 
Until our aid is ever blest: 
And now for thee we'll do our best 
In stratagem of life or death — 
If thou wilt give the sweet incest 
Of one calm, deep, and perfumed breath — 
And then we'll gladly do whatever that breath saith. 
Speak! Speak! Proud Spirit! Speak thy wish! 
And on thy breath we will away! 
We'll toil for thee e'en we perish 
With the fast dying darkening day, 
I now can see the Sun's last ray 
Receding from the hill-top's bleak — 
And as it goeth, we cannot stay, 
But graciously we kneeling seek 
What thou would'st say to us. O Spirit; Spirit! Speak! 

The Queen of the Spirits of Air: 
And we, the pretty Spirits ' 

Of the soft and zephyred air, 
Await thy call to speed us all — 
Altho we know not where. |vg 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 43 

We dive and fling 

The whole day long, 

And sweetly sing 

A crystal song 

Which lights the heart of every creature: 

Til the night,— 

And then we coo 

Until the bright 

Morn comes anew — 

And then we coolly breathe on sleeping Nature 

To call the land 

From its dreams, 

And wake the sand 

In winding streams, 

Until its fresh oped eyes shine forth as glistening sighs 

Our home is m the air — 

So calm and bright and fair — 

But we will leave it all, 

Tho the raging tempests call — 

For thee— and all so meek— if thou wilt only speak! 

. , The Queen of the Spirits of Sky 

A"d I am the Queen of the Spirits of Sky— 

Who are anxious thy favor to seek: 
We came from the depths of the morn's azure sigh 

To hear thee but speak! 
Our home is aloft above all earthly strife— 

Where quiet and love reigns supreme— 
And there we in quiet and love lead a life 

The life of a Dream! 
Our life is a crystal perpetual of bliss— 

And Death is a thing we know not: 
But we shall spurn that, and then we shall seek his 

If thou wish'st it our lot. ' 

But speak thee thy summons, or give thy command,— 

Wherever thou sayest, we'll go- 
Be It here— be it there— or another far land- 

Oh, aught will we do! 

^^Lr?""^"^'^" "^' Summon us! Give thy command! 
Wherever thou sayest, we'll go! 
Be It here— be it there— or another far land' 
Oh, aught will we do! 

* * * ■ 

The Spirit of Solitude: 
Methmks an ancient child of mine 
Cometh in trouble to my shrine, 
And I wish ye to aid me shelter — 
For I fear that he doth welter 
'Mong cruel Imps who torture him 
Until his very life grow'th dim: 
Fly away! Fly away! each io her home! 



44 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

And I shall then call thee when thou art to come! 

Away! He comes! 

* * * 

The Queen of the Spirits of Earth. 
Sweet Spirit of Love, we are here with thee now — 

We are here! 

We appear, 
And now ask what thy wish may allow. 

The Queen of the Spirits of Air : 
We leave our homes and come to thee, 
Over land and swelling sea: 
We would we knew what we could do 
For thy sweet charity. 

The Queen of the Spirits of Water 
We come from our caves in the Ocean — 
All laden with Love and Emotion 
To aid thee sweet Mother of Love 
Howe'er thou may'st move. 

The Queen of the Spirits of Sky: 
We beat our dainty crystal wings 

And come to thee, our loved One, 
While each Seraph gently sings 

What we'll do, our loved One. 

All: 
We come from our retreats beyond 

What Mankind ever knew: 
We come to thee with all hearts fond 

To do what we can do! 

Oh, do not fear to rue 
If thou wilt bid us anything, 
For we will fly away and sing, 

As ne'er before we flew! 

The Spirit of Solitude: 
My own Child and my fond Love 
Comes to this wild and pensive grove 
To rid his soul of torment there: 
Oh light his goal! Drown his despair! 

The Queen of the Spirits of Sky 
Sister Spirits, we shall sing 

A song to turn his darkening woe: 
His heavy soul shall then take wing. 

And learn to love, and love to know, 
Come, let us sing a song of love 

And let us sing a song of joy. 
So that he will not wish to move. 

For fear the air he will annoy. 
Thou know'st a Song — each one of ye, — 

And we shall sing in chorus grand; 
His happiness shall be our fee — 

Our happiness shall be our wand, — 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 45 

And we shall strike all darkness light, 

And let him see his groping way — 
Until the night with day unite, 

Into one long perpetual day! 

The Queen of the Spirits of Earth: 
Queen, thy voice is clear las crystal, 

And thy speech so like a song. 
That my soul doth crave to nestle 

On the bright Fire of the Tongue! 

The Queen of the Spirits of Water: 
Aye! My mellowed surges whimper 

Would not mingle with thy voice — 
Nor my raging, violent temper 

Be thy charming temper's choice! 

The Queen of the Spirits of A^ir: 
Oh, thy voice, so much above me 

Murmurs as a summer's dream, — 
Altho it doth gently move me, 

I would not pollute its stream. 

The Queen of the Spirits of Sky: 
All thy Voices, tho not crystal. 

Are as sweet as mine: 
Who can say that not the Thistle 

Is the Rose's slirine? 
That my Voice may be its sweetest 

Thou must lend thy breath, — 
Nature must be mingled meetest — 

Or would breathe to Death. 

The Spirit of Solitude: 
Children! Listen to her! 
Heed her speech's power, — 
Claim this hour thy Life's great dower! 
What she speaks is true — 
No wind ever blue 

But all Nature's many features murmured too! 

* * * 

The Queens of the Spirits of Earth, Air, Water and Sky: 
We've left our labyrinthian pastures, 

And the beauty of our caves, 
So that with our mingled natures. 

We could be thy willing Slaves. 
And some have left the heaving Ocean, — 

Some their lucid beds of Air, — 
Some have ceased their skyey motion, — 

Some a pensive Earthly lair, — 
But it is all that we might aid thee 

Cast aside thy darkened care, — 
Thou thank Love and Life that made thee — 

Thou hast Life, and not Despair. 



46 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Our time is prfecions — we must hurry — 

So respond thou to our charms, — 
Love and Life will never tarry 

Where a Soul with gloom alarms. 
Oh, listen! let thy soul so saddened 

Drink a mirthful draught of Love, 
Thy slow heart with Light be gladdened 

With our music, sweet reprove. 
We sing for thee — oh, listen, listen 

And thou'lt see a beaming bark 
Floating on thy Life's Sea, — glisten 

Where it once was cold and dark. 

Conrad: 

Do I hear voices? Nay! 'Tis but the wind 
Murmuring in the trees and grass; and 'tis 
The breathing of the ocean wild, beneath 
This high Plateau. Methinks the earth is sighing; 
So sweet tbe sound is wafted to mine ears, — 
But nay! It cannot be — 'tis but the beating 
Of the incessant ocean on its floor. 
And now a. voice — nay! 'tis a silver dreaming 
A sound too sweet for human ears, as if 
The clouds, caressingly, were beating on 
Thie bright dome of the heavens. Sound again! 
Move on, sweet cloud, and whisper to the sky. 
So I can hear thy whisper, and her answer! 
— Again! — And now again, I hear that murmur — 
That calm, pellucid, charming glow of love. 
That sweetly sounds to all my senses, and 
Makes Life where once had Death enthroned there. 
Calm, quiet, melancholy joy! Look now 
Upon the rolling billows 'neath my seat — 
The grandeur and the nobleness of that 
Vast stretch of liquid reverence! How it 
Doth roll and surge its melancholy song — 
Its everlasting tribute to the spheres. 
See now a billow rushing to the shore! 
It reaches what it seeks, and then 'tis gone 
To nothingness — a vast moving nothingness: 
Ocean, I feel for thee! — I have not yet 
Reached my desire — nor would I be here now! 
Roll on — Roll on — those words are breathed by thee, 
And then are echoed in the brain of thy 
Religious votaries. — So they are spoken. 
Roll on, thou Ocean, to thy doom: — Roll on! 
The monotony of Nature is various, 
That gentle wind bloweth my care asleep: 
My care! — and why should I have care! My care! 

* * * 

Her death is a 
Perpetual Curse on Heaven, Earth, and Hell: 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 47 

Diversed names! She was not meant to live. 
Or die! 

^ % ;)t 

The Spirit of Solitude: 
Methinks that his Destiny points to a goal 

Of ridding the Earth of all Hell's bitterest pangs: 
And thus shall I temper the turn of his soul — 

To the Mountain of Poison — the Dungeon of Fangs. 

* * * 

Oh Moon! Oh thou beacon of silvery light — 

Thou calm persevering, ethereal glow! 
'Twould be Herculean, yet sweet, to unite — 

Unite what thou dreamest with that which I know! 

* * * 

The Spirit of the Moon: 
The Earth beneath my vision seems 

A cold and forlorn place — 
And so I roll to hurl the dreams 

Of Love from thy bright face, 

Which doth in glowing streamlets delicately trace. 

* * * 

Or like the waking Morning's beams 

Which meet a Lover's eyes — 
And mirror in an angel's dreams 

The color of the skies: 
And mingle with her tears, where all of beauty lies. 
Our love is as the bonds of faith 

Between the Day and Night: 
Or as the love Life hath for Death 

When all doth seem unite 
To mingle them to One— One loving Eremite. 
Or as the ears of Midnight love 

The music of the Spheres — 
That ever seems away to move, 

Yet ever, ever nears — 
Which ever in t'heir flying, their love more closely sears. 

The Spirit of Solitude: 
Oh, aid me ever Moon, oh, aid me! 

And a Lover thou shalt be — 
As it was only Love that made me, 

I, by inborn Love, made thee! 

Action Number Tv^^o. 

Scene: The Same. Time: Morning. 

Voice: 
I love the World, but hate the Devil in it. 

Voice: 
Thou lovest the Wine, but hatest the Substance in it! 

The Spirit of Solitude: 
The Tongue of the Earth is a far strung afifair. 

With infinite segments — each with a sharp sting — 



48 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

And each in its way aye doth beat the fouled air, 

Stinging each, sending out an incorporate ring. 
But when Danger is nigh they all creep behind teeth, 

And with lips closed o'er them, all curse through the nose- 
Then all are united, 'til various death 

Causes wild strife again for the sake of their foes. 

H: ^ * 

Sing ye a song of the sweetest — 

Purest perfumery blow, 
So that wherever thou sittest, 

He, from his pleasure will know. 

Mingle with that brightest flowers, — 

Beds of the sweetest of pine — 
Cool with thy breath his calm bowers — 

Season his palate with wine: 

Wine from the skies purple color — 

Wine from the breath of a bee, 
So that with joy he'll be fuller 

Than is with water, the sea. 

Send him the clearest of melody — 

Music of music send him — 
So that he murmur may: Well-a-day, 

Why are my senses so dim! 

Mingle with humming-birds' singing, 

The butterflies' kiss for his mate, — 
Then in a dove's heart it bringing. 

Throb in his senses 'til sate. 

The Song of the meadow-lark mingle, 

The laugh of the tears of a bride, — 
Strain thru her sob until single, 

Mix with the warmth of her side: 

Wrap in the gold of the morning — 

Tie with a beam of the moon — 
Give it to him as a warning 

What shall be brot to him soon. 

Gather in folds of the ocean 

The sky's brightest crystalline light — 
Mingle with lover's emotion — 

Mellow with beams of the night: 

Send on a sun-beam a-sleeping — 

Spread it as love o'er his eyes: — 
Whisper as Angels in weeping 

Beauty that lives in the skies. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 49 

The Queen of the Spirits of Sky. 

Yea Mother! Yea Mother! Oh fear not! 
Fear not for aught, for we 

Can gather the Universe into our verse, 
And sing it all to thee! 

* * * 

The Queen of the Spirits of Air: 

I come from the crystal caves in the North — 

And with a freshening breath, 
I hop to the skies and am hurled forth 

To the warm lands underneath: 
I clear the hectic heat from the brow 

Of the burning South, 
And whisper sweet as I whisper now — 

With a perfumed mouth: 
I clear every heavy heart of woe, 

And sit on the bright wayside, 
Until comes the time when I must go 

To the sleeping northern bride, 
And then I arise from sunny climes, 

And breathe again 
On the sleeping flowers, the sweetest rhymes, 

To awake where lain 
During all the long cold Winter's song. 

And again to kiss 
The cheek of Heaven and doze among 

The night stars of bliss. 
And then I bring warm rains to the West, 

To water the thirsting land, — 
And enliven the desert's sterile breast. 

With a thunderbolt as my wand. 
I carry the gifts of the Sky in my arms 

And scatter them over the Earth — 
I carry the gifts of the Ocean's charms — 

And drop them with laughter and mirth. 
And then as a zephyr I often caress 

The sweets of the land — 
The cheek of a flower or maid in distress. 

Or then touch her hand. 
When my temper is free I rage as a Demon, 

And sweep the trembling World — 
And then when everything's lost, or seeming, 

In the bright dew I am impearled: 
I everywhere live, but ever my house 

The fairest of all I make — 
With its azure roof and walls daedalous, 

And a floor of the mirroring Lake: 
And often I live among the trees. 

And sleep in the flowers and leaves; 
While I whisper alone to the birds and bees, 

As my bosom gently heaves. 



50 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

The Queen of the Spirits of Earth: 
My strength is calm and my strength is fierce — 

And ranging from love to contempt: 
I oft cause the Earth to vomit, and pierce 

The sky — an ambitious attempt. 
And then I ride on the breath of Hell, 

And rage on the rocks up thrown. 
Until People think, and think very well, 

That the Devil himself doth groan! 
And then I bid the battle to cease, 

And I re-enter my cove 
With a quiet which seems ominous peace — 

A peace of hate — not of love, — 
Which might be broken with wilder outrages 

Than hitherto I have shrieked — 
And might lay dormant for many ages 

Before my temper is piqued. 
I often grumble and growl over naught, 

And shake my stone foundations — 
Nor do I care of the suffering lot 

Of Towns or Cities or Nations: 
And often my voice is only to frighten 

Weak Man of superstition — 
The travail of his weak brain to lighten 

With the worst of his perdition: 
And often I murmur and often I laugh. 

But for the sound of my voice — 
And often I hiccough and sneeze and cough 

Without the least of my choice. 
Then I often subside my haughty pride 

To the calmest of love caressing — 
Which can be enjoyed in a caved hillside, 

When fatigue is all oppressing, 
I even invite to rest and pleasure 

Within my shady bowers, 
And thotlessly scatter a priceless treasure 

Of quiet 'mong leaves and flowers. 

The Queen of the Spirits of Water: 
Oh, I am strong and, Oh, I am weak — 

I rage, and I laugh with joy: — 
My vengeance on the helpless I wreak, 

And with the strong I am coy: 
I am hated and I am despised, but still 

I am loved with the greatest of passion; 
I laugh at both and tease with a will. 

And mingle caressing with lashing, 
I can tear down rocks with a single breath, 

Or lave the feet of a child — 
I am shunned with fear and weighted with faith — 

Am worshipped as tame and wild — 
I roar 'til I terrify — sigh 'til I'm kist — 

And breathe with the breath of a maiden, — 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 51 

And then I weep loving tears of mist 

'Til I am overladen: 
I dash to the bottom the great ships of Men, 

And slaughter without a heart — 
I fondle the delicate Nautilus then. 

And kiss it to bid it depart: 
I often invite with smiles and tears — 

And those who think are my lovers. 
I rentlessly smile at, 'til with their warped biers. 

I bury with waves as their covers: 
I can impart awe and I can impart love 

With the strength of a Devil or Maid: 
\ can paralyze thot, or convulse it to move 

In fear — ^^tho 'tis not afraid. 
I ripple and laugh in the braided brook, 

And dash on the water-fall; 
And silently swim with a heavenly look 

In calm rivers — then violently call: 
I send clouds of mist that I sobbingly shed, 

In the arms of the air to the flowers, — 
To give to them strength and life when near dead: — 

Oh Mother! These are my Powers! 

The Queen of the Spirits of Sky: 
I too have great strength behind the length 

Of beauty that I am given — 
With love I can sigh, or with rage I can cry, 

'Til I lull or shake all Heaven — 
Behind color of peace I often release 

Bright lightning and roaring thunder, 
Which silently dashes and loudly crashes — 

Tearing Heaven and Earth asunder! 
I hide my light in the darkness of night 

Behind clouds of roaring black, 
And with raging mien — tho hid and unseen — 

I hurl the tumult back. 
And violently tear the heavy air 

With a sword of golden fire — 
And rent the ground with a fearful sound, 

'Til my anger doth expire. 
I wildly play at a war all day. 

And then, with the World asleep, 
I kiss the stars in their silvery cars 

'Til the breath of the air doth weep; 
And all is serene where there had been 

Raging and death before; 
Then I waken the Moon with a breathless tune, 

To glide its pale passage o'er, 
I wake in Love's breast a wild unrest. 

And my whisper in night's air I weave — 
But on wings of day, I blow all away. 

And I leave him there to grieve. 



52 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

I lavishly throw blazing- gold down below, 

But take it away before noon; 
I send heat and light on sunbeams so bright, 

Which groweth unbearable soon — 
Without a remorse I send on his course 

The brazed and blazing Sun — 
And then again o'er Earth's sleeping brain 

I contemplate o'er my past fun. 
But this all is oft from my heart doffed. 

And I can love and be loved — 
I softly shine on the Earth as my shrine. 

As if love I wished to be proved: 
The blue of my eyes — my crystalline sighs — 

I lavishly cast to the World — 
And I whisper of love from the Worlds above. 

As we are perpetually hurled: 
I impearl my glow with the softest show 

For Poets and Lovers alone, 
And fly to the light from the darkening Night, 

When my lucid Day is done: 
And then I often the glaring soften 

By siezing from sea and air 
A little cloud — a little white shroud 

To bury the dazzle there! 
With a passionate kiss I gaze over this, 

Then mellow my life again, 
And sweetly shine on the World of mine — 

The World of Love and of Pain. 

All: 

Oh, Mother! of ours, these are our Powers — 

And all we'll expend for thee — 
Be it roaring in thunder or sighing under 

The flowers of Spring with the bee; 
Be it crashing in lightning — ^or only fright'ning 

With a whisper in even, a child; 
Be it breathing slow and blowing down snow 

Upon the meadows mild — 
Or with a roar of mirth hurling hail to the Earth, 

And a laughter loud and wild; 
Or breathing sweet love on the wings of a dove, 

And sighing i' the midnight air — 
Telling that joy is never coy, 

If those who enjoy are there: 
Or then again we'll breathe on the plain 

The breath of the dreaming morn. 
And shadows shall fly before the sigh, 

As dreams when from sleep one is borne: 
Or laugh and then roar, or sing and soar. 

In the Ocean or Lake or River, 
And join with the Wind a song of its mind. 

Which all may echo forever, 



, The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 53 

Or sweet Earth her breath 'til Summer's death 

Shall breathe thru the stems of the flowers, — 
And give a warm bed for a tired head — 

'Til the Moon in its journey lowers; 
Or join in the thunder by hurling asunder 

Rocks and stones and fire — 
And shaking the World as they are hurled, 

'Til all have expended their ire. 
Yea, Mother of ours, these are our Powers, — 

But bid us and we shall fly — 
Under the Earth where the Sea hath is birth — 

Or over Earth, Sea, Air and Sky! 

The Spirit of Solitude: 

Oh, my sweet children, I know thee well. 

And I know that thou shalt do what e'er 
My whispering tongue can ever tell — 

Or breathe on the silvery Moon-lit air: 
I thank thee all for thy promises, 

And thy willingness to journey far 
Over rivers and air and sky and seas. 

Or gather the liquid from a star, — 

And all for me! 

* * * 

Action Number Three. 

Scene: The Same. Time: Evening. 
Conrad: 

Calm thou my fiery soul by raising thy 

Soul in a wild outbreak! Explode! Tear ye 

The Heavens and Earth and Hell — yea, Earth! 

Cast thru the World a wild turmoil, to quench 

The turmoil in my Heart! Oh, breathe thou fire, 

Earth, and thou Sky, hurl Hell out from thy womb! 

Blow ye, oh Winds, and make the World to tremble! 

And Ocean wild! Oh, cast thy waves upon 

The jagged rocks, and fight within your selves! 

Fight! Fight! And ye shall represent the tumult — 

The wild and baffling rages 'tween my Heart 

And Soul! Oh, do thy worst, and it shall be 

Only a miniature of what I bear: 

For lo! I have a Hell within me now! 

Turn — writhe — exault! And raze ye between the World, 

As now my brain is razed between contention! 

Oh! Breathe ye fire with me! Hurl forth thy all, 

Nor rest 'til thou hast spent thyself to death! 

Yea, groan ye then, and writhe as ghosts in pain! 

Haunt ye what thou hast left, as I shall haunt 

The abode of the Gods! 



54 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Spirit: 
Man is unborn — his breath is still — 

His heart hath barely life in it — 
His senses have much space to fill, 

But they have filled small as yet: 
His greatest wishes are to kill — 

Where even pre-natal life is set. — 
To kill all life, that life might live — 

To take — consume — but never give. 

* * * 

Spirit of Earth: 
I love the waxen flower, and give 

It food, and a warm soft bed at night, — 
And day-time shelter, that it might live 

In bliss with the Daemon which did unite. 

Spirit of Air: 
I love the waxen flower and kiss 

It to its dreams, and then I awake 
It in the pure morn with a sweet caress. 

And bid it my loving and day partake. 

Spirit of Water: 
I love the waxen flower, and sing 

Sweet songs to it, and lull it to. sleep; 
And calm it with my soft whispering, 

And bid it the best of my love to keep. 

Spirit of Sky: 
I love the waxen flower, and light 

Its sweet face upturned to me, and cover 
It from all harm in the day and night. 

And watch o'er it as lover o'er lover. 

^ ^ ^ 

Spirit: 
Eternity shall form a sieve, 

Compressed by the press of lover's lips, — 
The love darting from their eyes shall give 

The pores thru which Love only slips. 



THE PROPHECY. 
(A Fragment.) 

Sing not thy song to me! Sing not thy song, 

For I hear not! The unborn Beauty of 
The clouds, sing soul to soul, with spirit-tongue 

Unknown. To dream the Beauty and the love 
Of such, my soul shall echo forth — it would, 

For 'tis to it an unexplored grove 
Of marvel and of grandeur, — 'Tis a wood 

Of trees built up of sighs, and rivulets 
Of wildest thot, and calmest solitude: 

Within the realms of space where the sun sets 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems, 55 

I wandered o'er the passages of time, 

In contemplation of that which begets 
The process of that vast eternal clime — 

The strands of Beauty, Love, and various 
Things which around the ages vast aye chime. 

And formulate upon the God's deep brows 
The unpremeditated grandeur of 

That Ocean of Emotion, which e'er flows 
In massive, monstrous groans — below — above — 

And 'round the all of being: I was checked 
By the dense foam, which sometimes is called: Love; 

And with the which the Ocean was up flecked 
And darkened o'er, and turned to little pools 

Of whirling, writhing madnesses, which decked 
Themsleves with little caps of steam, the tools, 

Methot, of Lust. I gazed — that writhing foam 
Cannot be Love! Love nameth her own rules 

Within the heart — the life — the very home 
Of passion intricate: And this cannot 

Be that vast Power! I see whence it doth come! 
My God! My heart is deeply, heavily fraught 

With emotion of a new discovery! 
For that is Crime! And Crime has thus been taught 

By those vast and those jagged rocks I s^e. 
Which are called ways of Life! The Rocks of Life! 

But will those waves now dashing terribly — 
Will they not be the victors in the strife? 

Whence cometh that wild foam? I see the rocks 
Vomiting it in pulses of mad grief. 

And laughing while they are fearful of the shocks! 
A tempest rages o'er — 'tis it which lulls 

This madness into action, as it locks 
Within its mad embrace, the sea, and dulls 

Itself within its screeching. I see tossed , 

Among this raging leprous masts and hulls 

Which once had proudly lived, — but now were lost 
In that wild tumult; there one sinks beneath 

The waves which it would vainly once have crossed! 
Of what mad God can be this Hellish breath? 

What Power is this which gains such boundless pleasure 
In hurling down that which it quickeneth? 

What Fate is it which gloats over a treasure 
Of blood-stained and of painfully rotting shrouds, 

And gazing o'er deserts of sadness, doth measure 
Success? I see the turmoil of great crowds 

Of furious sharks, seeking a life from death. 
And gorging their vast maws with obscene loads 

Of filthy purity within their path. 
I see a mangled corse, disjoined, sink 

Into the putrid waters, underneath 



56 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

This madness; but dead madness too doth stink! 

Vain Life, methot, doth thou know why thou art? 
In all thy tumult did'st thou ever think 

The reason of thy being? Dost depart 
Not knowing even why thou earnest here? 

Ah, thou art too content to merely start 
And cease as Hell would have thee! Hell by fear 

Is moved to his decisions! Intricate 
In darkness are Hell's plans, so then if there 

Is but a light, 'tis clear its planned Fate! 
Hung high upon a Heavenly Fantasy, 

Within the splendid court of Death I sate, 
And watched the ages as they fluttered by — 

A plagued multitude. They fell as dead 
Leaves from the branches of a withered tree, 

Which had thru roots of slimy snakes long fed 
Until the poison filtered thru its heart 

And planted Death therein; and Death had bred 
Its plague within the roots, and with his art 

Of cunning handicraft, an effulence 
Of torture and of woe to breed and part 

Within them, which would cause the every sense 
To shudder from the terror of such waste, 

Pouring itself forth in so dire offense: 
And they were torn as dying babes from fast 

On a dead mother's breast, but left to die 
In suckling on a sterile hag's cold breast. 

To feed upon her spittle to their cry, 
And leprous; and as this they fell; afar 

I saw them torn wild and flung ragingly. 
But on the horizon I could see a lair — 

A little crevice in the ground, which held 
Itself as a receptacle, and there 

They were collected, and so were upheld 
From the mad clutch of the tempest: I saw 

That those which had with direst force been felled 
Became a deep foundation, and the maw 

Of this small crevice soon was filled with them, 
And still they packed, hurled forth in a way 

So tempestuous, that everything grew dim 
And deeply set in darkness, in the bounds 

Of this eternal outburst: then o'er the rim 
The leaves were piled high with screeching sounds 

And maddened mutterings, as if the Hell 
Were vomiting its bowels thru the wounds 

Inflicted by a monstrous birth: the yell 
Awoke dead silence, the while proclaimed 

The mastery of terror, lewd and fell. 
And on and on the dead leaves hurled and flamed 

In gushes of dead darkness and mad thunder 
Until the crest that formed there was framed 

Around with a wall distinct, and 'twas held under 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems, 57 

By a foundation vast: and still they piled! 

A great monotony which hurled asunder 
The very path of time, so mad and wild 

It was in action — so perpetual 
In that vast, monstrous sameness, where there toiled 

A gruesome, unconnected force, where all 
Its being was turned to this one path of awe, 

Forever onward — neither rise nor fall 
To break the terror, as if from the jaw 

Of some colossal Daemon, deformed. 
Startled at some un hellish sight he saw, 

Opening his hideous mouth,, which had but fed 
Upon the dregs of human lust, would roar 

Forever forth the pus within his head. 
Unable to recast his noble power 

From that one path, but ever thence to hurl 
Dire madness o'er the universal hour. 

In filthy mists for aye — thus to upcurl: 

Thus Eternity's mouth seemed to be forced open, 
Which did the entire death within unfurl, 

And force into space infinite: misshapen 
And formless they were cast, to take a shape 

But as they reached their bed, where they would slope in 
The forced curves of Fate long post. The cap 

Of this vast mound grew ever wider, higher, 
Until it seemed that it with Sky would wrap, 

And mingle with the ether: its desire 
Was doomed to despair — as I did look 

The flying leaves changed to a crystal fire. 
And thence of such a lucidness they took 

That they were almost invisible, and gave 
But a calm feeling as if Heaven's smoke 

Or mist or being — Purity — did wave 
In tides magnificent over the Spirit, 

As it a couch of sentiment did weave 
In which to pillow and in which to bear it 

From its pained meanness; and as thus they sped 
Invisible, the mound seemed to inherit 

A part of this, for soon, as rank and dead 
They were high piled, a weak, deathly quiver 

Shook thru the mass, and as was warranted 
Within my inmost self, I saw that ever 

It too was changing: where before had been 
A Lake of piled Death out of a River 

Of Death, so now there could be slowly seen 
A change, and running thru the all: where once 

The mound was topped high so that did screen 
All light out of the World and Worlds, and whence 

A worse than darkness reigned, a shadow of 
The lust and blackness of the shade — a sense 

Of pitiable hell, where there did move 
The Demon of themselves, — but now it sank 

Slowly and quietly, and from above 



58 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

The while appeared as if it the crystal drank 

Which maketh Sky so pure: it lowered till 
It reached the level of the crevice's bank; 

The thunderous sound of earth-quake then did fill 
All space with screeches and with mutterings 

Of murmured life and death — to save and kill — 
Of strangulation and of blood, and things 

A Revolution murmurs in its toil — 
A time when time itself is murmurings — 

Of Heaven and Hell — of victory and foil. 
But a deep change came o'er the mound, as all 

Was burst to life — the elements to boil 
And vibrate Future in their rise and fall, 

And vibrate Present in their awe and terror — 
Terror which seemed to live and cast a pall 

Innate within the mound alone, from error 
Of self-inflicted fear; the thunder came 

In rolling peals, and nearer and yet nearer, 
Until it clashed above in roar and flame. 

And rained devastation down beneath. 
Where Hell itself was left without a name: 

But lo! The filth of murder and of death 
Was as is earth to flowers, for there arose 

A Sprite of wildest brightness from the heath, 
Which beckoned to the thunder as it rose 

And poured itself above — and even thunder 
Obeyed, and calmly went as evening goes 

After a day of frenzy and wild wonder 
Hath spent itself. Asway upon the blue, 

She hovered and gazed at the space beyond her, 
And muttered breathing thots of such a hue 

As only sprites may utter, when a death 
Is turned with many skyey motions, thru 

A multitude of things breathed on her breath 
Which turneth Universes: gazing o'er 

The vast and never ending space, a wreath 
Of Spirit lore, and hyaline, before 

My gaze arose, beneath the feet of her 
Who swung upon the wind, and did up soar 

Until it mingled with her feet, and there 
It disappeared, and sought oblivion 

Whence it had had its birth. She did incur 
From this new strength or weakness, for as one 

Within the deepest trance, silence she sang, 
And called a charm the sunken mound upon. 

It moved — it slowly rose — the stillness rang 
With awe incarnate — and she ceased her muttering. 

And sank as it arose whence she did hang 
Upon a breath of Heaven, high, and fluttering 

With all the life of Purity: I saw — 
Or felt — or heard — or felt I heard — a stuttering 

Of lone-felt sorrow, or perhaps of awe — 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 59 

Which turned, methot, to a bright sigh of joy, 

And died: The fancy of the Sprite did draw 
A line of Beauty o'er the air to buoy 

High hopes upon, and on it hung a strand 
Oh highest aspiration, never cloy, 

But sweet within its hopes: Then as the land 
Of ages rose, and she sank down to it, 

She tied to it that little thot-spun band 
Of calm delightment: she stood a moment yet 

The queen of all — Queen of Eternity — 
Then as a dying sigh with brightness lit, 

She sank into the depths, slowly, away. 
And lo! In brightest crystal the land shone. 

And echoed forth the clear voice of the day, 
As doth a whisper on Love's own wings flown, 

And then, where she into the lucid realms — 
Made hylaine by her bright charm alone — 

Had intermingled, thru the sparkling films 
Which lined the surface, and into the air 

Became a part in grandeur, Nature's helms 
Were turned into a channel new, and there 

Found that which they had sought, for there arose. 
As shoots around a tree, felled down, a fair 

And beauteous obscurity, naught knows 
But a Singer of the Stretches of the Sky, 

Thru which the rippling stream forever flows — 
The Stream of flowing Meditation: I 

Intently gazed, and saw what shone to be 
The Population: All cast in that Die, 

Perfection, to make Love, perpetually, 
The Ruler, yet innate within the Soul 

Of every Individual. The Sea 
In restful accents, calm, did breathe and roll 

As doth the transient beauty of a dream, 
When the Heart's pulses beat the sleeping toll, 

And the Heart's loving shines the only beam 
Upon the Spirit land of Love; and all 

Is mellowed only by that throbbing gleam 
Of yearning: and as this its rise and fall 

Was echoed in my strained ears, as I 
Sate on my Throne of Dreams. The ghastly Hall 

Of Death shone forth its beauty dreamily, 
But with a strength immeasurable, and cast 

A feeling of mad living over me: 
Dire pulses beat themselves upon my breast. 

And a new sight was born: The very Walls 
Created echoes from the sounds which last 

Forever and are born within — the calls 
Of Monsters born of Awe: the atmosphere 

Was wild, metallic, and all sound as palls 



60 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Was hurled o'er, which cleft the very ear 

Of Time, with its vast, muf¥led thud of strife 
And deadened thunder maddening — tho near. 

All seemed so terrible and far, as if 
The pulse of Life had turned into Death, 

To revel in the pain and lust of grief! 
ISlo more! I cried: and panted o'er my breath 

The all — the Soul of me — and with the force 
With which one could grapple in the grave beneath, 

If buried and alive in with a corse 
Which came to life, to choke one into Hell — 

So I did grapple with the heavy curse 
Now hung o'er me: The tales which Daemon tell 

Of Sky and Earth and Air and Sea and Heaven 
And Hell, are idle breathings, for so well 

I saw the Visions on my journey given 
That they were Life to me: 



THE ENCHANTRESS. 

L 



Among the mists of Heaven there's a Vale 

Hung on the mingled breath of Sky and Air, 

Betwixt where Space's Ocean there doth fail, 
And dashes on the height: hung asway there 

That Isle of Brightness lingers in a dale 

Carved from bright transparency, and fair 

And crystal, sparkling splendor, lucid, bright. 

And high in all, aloft o'er day and night. 

II. 

No course dimensions claim it, so, forever 

One may stroll o'er it: neither great nor small, 

But giving way to wandering, doth sever 

Itself from Nothingness, and back doth fall — 

As beings there desire to look back never — 
And casting all that wildest Beauty, all 

That sweet enchantment aye before the eyes — 

As Beauty, when not worshiped, ever dies. 

III. 

Mountains of sunbeams splendidly arise 

Into the air, of that most pure devotion 

Cast o'er the ether from an Angel's eyes. 

When she has turned a dream of sweet emotion, 

And speeds to interweave within the skies 
Her majesty: and girded by an ocean 

Clear, hyaline and glistening and pure, 

A nobleness around did thence endure: 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 61 

IV. 

And valleys born of moonlight's tracery 

Gather and waver as the distant beams 
Sighed from the listening eyes of stars, away 

In gentleness and contemplative streams, 
To linger where the thots of Daemons fly 

Upon the gossamer wings of their own dreams, 
When overpowered by their beauty, and 
That depth which but a dream can understand: 

V. 

And little fountains play with mirth and love, 

And lose themselves within the stilly breath 
Of Zephyrus, and so are interwove 

Within the Sky's own color, as a wreath 
O'ercast it to teach it the sweet things of 

A Haven knowing not Death's life, Life's death — 
But a calm being, ever wildly traced 
And in a Faery's visions interlaced: 

VI. 

And rivulets of silence murmuring 

Trace the reflecting pencillings of nature 
Born of the land of which a star doth sing 

When it doth show and hide its beaming feature. 
And intergleam within its glimmering 

The passions of an interstellar creature 
When smothered in a Beauty — in a Spirit 
Of wildest dreaming and of maddest merit. 

VII. 

Begemmed within this truest excellence, 

A Forest of Tranquility arose, 
And stretched as a Vision, nor did commence 

Unlike a Vision ever comes and goes. 
But wafted here and there and ever thence 

As an ecstasy of purest Love aye does 
When the Soul will not see the sight awake, 
Asleep, or dreaming, bu tas it doth take 

VIII. 

A Vision for its sight and for its being — 

Its life and death and hope and fear and passion: 
And such the Forest was: 'twas ever fleeing 

Before the breath of thot in a wild fashion, 
But still 'twas there, and able of that seeing 

The innate sight alone may feel in passing 
A high-born calmness, noble, intricate, 
And bright — inspiring greatness to be great. 



62 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

IX. 

My Being echoed thru the Forests' wake 

As doth a thot pursue a dream, but never 

Altho it wildly strives to overtake, 

Can reach the Ultimate — that vast Forever! 

My heart was not one that could well forsake — 

My Soul was not one that in fear would quiver — 

So ever on I made my way thru vast 

And awful passages, before ne'er past. 

X. 

Before me rose deep Fancies of the brain, 

Conjured without the deepest realms of death, 

Cast from the pleasure of an unknown pain — 
The life exhaled upon an unknown breath: 

But then they vanished as a falling rain 

Dissolves into the heaving sea beneath — 

To join as other misty mysteries, 

Be dreamed, and fall again to other seas. 

XI. 

The paths exhaled themselves to dreams of mist, 

Which rose in forms of what the paths would lead 

In sweet compliance to an Atheist — 

The hopes of life which shine before they're dead 

To make more dense and dark the path. I wist 

Heaven sorrowed that a worshiper should thus tread 

Breathing that: God is Love, and so God is 

Unknown to Doctrines and Philosophies. 

XII. 

But here the paths were intricate and wild. 

Yet simple from the sacred depth of things. 

And pierced thru deepest lights that once were piled 
Too massively and deep in wanderings 

To be o'ercome by minds and souls that toiled 
In shackles that a bigot Sophist brings 

From Hell's own mines, and wrought with cunning craft 

O'er which an Angel wept, a Demon laughed. 

XIII. 

I saw a light which shone beyond the sky, 

And cast a hallowed radiance o'er the scene. 

Making the Visions — as they fluttered by 

A shadow of that which they once had been 

For Beings with a milder life than I, 

And those with less of passion as a screen 

To blind the Soul from Ultimate Perefection, 

As clouded by its worldly-taught Defection. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 63 



XIV. 

I moved, not understanding why I moved — 
I gazed, not knowing why I gazed above — 

I loved, not understanding why I loved, 

Nor why my Heart was torn as this with love : 

The Light shone o'er me still: it only proved 

What Life and World to my Soul could not prove: 

That tho I hated Worldly form and power, 

Dazed I was within that skyey Bower. 

XV. 

Fantastical and wild and incomplete, 

My Spirit laved itself within this flow 

Of perfect brightness, which it strove to meet 
And intercept, and go where it would go — 

Travel upon the light of clouds more fleet 

Than Images of Death in their own glow, 

Which intermingle in a burning brain, 

And cast a fleetness in an intense pain. 

XVI. 

A perfect bower formed itself around — 
Retarded and advanced by skyey lore, 

Which drew a vision of itself to bound 

The boundless, infinite, which ne'er before 

Had fallen in such beauty, — as a sound 
Breathed on a Spirit ecstasy, as o'er 

A scene of unpremeditated things 

Of Sky and Light mysteriously it wings. 

XVIL 

The light of unborn ages interwove 

Its mystic threads of secrecy within 
The height and depth of this Bower, above, 

Below, and intermingled deeply in 
The light of which 'twas made — a striving grove 

Of splendor for the Absolute of Sin, 
To cherish living as a greening mountain 
Is made perpetual by a flaming fountain. 

XVIII. 

From unknown sources of an unknown mind, 
The unknown Beauty of the place arose — 

From those recesses deep which strive to find 
Their Ideal in themselves — but as all goes 

To greater evolution, crystallined 

And pillowed on the breath of Gods, it shows 

In vain reflection, glassed within the Being 

Of Gods eternal, beyond thot and seeing. 



64 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

XIX. 

And as this was the cavern of the Gods, 

Mingled and woven in the depths of life, 
Whence Gods themselves transcend from their abodes 

Of nothingness: a ground of disbelief 
In mean vulgarity, was as the sod's 

Early upspringing of its growing rife, 
Which grows to Truth: and a phantasm of Truth 
The cavern was, and lived as a God doth. 

XX. 

The light came intermittant, wavered, flew. 

And danced upon my eyes, and made my Spirit 

Flicker in expectations mad, which grew 
Into a madness of a mingled merit 

Of torture and delight, the while I knew 

Of nothing, but my Soul was flying near it 

With tranced wings, not fearing life nor death. 

With faith in nothing but a self-breathed faith. 

XXI. 

The bower grew: a vast and heavenly splendor 

Enveloped and breathed into it, and as 
It was the spirit of the splendor, did render 

Itself aglow, as it therein did pass 
Incorporated, and with light did tender 

The future fire and the darkness that was. 
Until the perfect Beauty of the Vision 
Slumbered and dreamt of things more than Elysian. 

XXII. 

Ah perfect life! Ah perfect death! Ah light 

Still more perfect! Oh, turn to darkness, all! 

Recede and turn to darkness and the night! 
Recede, dissolve into a mist, and fall 

Into a sea of nothingness! Thy sight 

Doth cast a pain over my Soul — a pall 

Of pleasure, which doth lean upon my heart. 

And smother it before its life can start 

XXIII. 

Out of its darkness! Beauty is intense. 

And casts a deep intensity o'er all, 
Hurling to naught all consciousness and sense 

Of anything but Beauty: mild and pale 
The Eternal seemed, as then there did commence 

The vastness of the Bower. All the Dale — 
The Universe — united to form there 
A couch of Beauty to enkindle Fear. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 65 

XXIV. 

Intense! Intense! Ah, burning life! The Bower 

Grew yet still more intense! Methot I would 
Be burned — consumed — by this almighty Power, 

And turned into a nothing where I stood! 
I wished it so — my pulse of life would lower, 

And cast my being into that solitude 
Of Universes — grand, austere, supreme — 
Upbuilded on the echoes of a dream. 

XXV. 

I saw — or did I see? I felt I saw 

A form appear! The Beauty of all Heaven 
Melted and cast itself in perfect awe 

Into all the grandeur that there could be given 
In things unearthly, without earthly flaw 

Nor madness: For which Beauty had aye striven 
Was there — accomplished — formed in that perfection 
Acted by Gods, but wrought at its election. 

XXVI. 

She stood there for a moment, then a form 

Of fiery light appeared, grew to a throne 
Of unknown fire and of mysterious storm, ^ 

Which centered: and as it was thus upblown 
The Bower shed itself in sweet alarm — 

Slowly and gradually — all into one: 
Higher and still more high in secret pleasure 
The Throne arose within a mingled measure. 

XXVII. 

It dreamt itself to naught — lost in the abyss 

Of Space eternal, unsought, infinite — 
That portion of the Life — that part which is 

Deep lored in murmured madness of the might, 
Uncomprehended — wild anomalies 

Of whait is not; the absolute of light 
And dark, and life and death, and all such things 
Which light and life laugh at, dark and death sings. 

XXVIII. 

Desire enkindled on a Daemon's brows 

Awoke within me as I gazed on high, — 
Thot only that a maddened Daemon knows 

When he is intermingled in the sky, 
And neverdying Death his grim face shows. 

And wildly chanting he can never die: 
I was o'erpowered, wildered, and enchanted, 
Until then my Life slept — my spirit panted.' 



66 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 



XXIX. 

Lost in a Dream of Light and Life and Pleasure, 
The Enchantress wafted hung upon the ties 

Which chain the cloudlets to their beds of leisure, 
And keep them fettered to the lucid skies: 

But she was hung in Eternity, a measure 
Fit for her being and her mysteries, — 

Toying with Atoms and with Ages great — 

Laughing at Dreams, the while dreaming of Fate. 

XXX. 

Mysterious in mystery and love. 

Pillowed upon the rolling waves of Time, 
She rested, as a star within a grove 

Of shades and shadows and of shapes sublime, 
Which were but shadows of its light, and of 

Its life; and whispering: If 'twere a crime 
To love, I might learn how to love, and then 
I would consume the World and all again! 

XXXI. 

Was it a dream? Nay, for it was not razed! 

Was it a fancy? Nay, its truth was sent! 
For never ending ages there I gazed. 

Until my being turned a breath, and went 
A part of that sweet mystery, which dazed 

To life the dream's unknown, sad firmament, — 
Dreaming forever of the Love to be — 
The Beauty which will carve what it doth see. 



AND I AM MAD. 
I. 



And I am mad! they tell me so! 

I do not love my life as they: — 
I breathe thot that they cannot know: 

But I am mad! that they can say! 

II. 

I was a hermit on the Earth — 

Forbade all cheering words to flow, 

And hated e'en the breath of mirth: 
And I was mad! they told me so! 

Ill 

I drank the best of sparkling wines — 
I reveled in their reddest glow — 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 67 

I cheered within those frenzied mines: 
And I was mad! they told me so! 

IV. 
I looked upon a vision fair — 

What my gaze was she did not know; 
I knew I saw her everywhere: 

But I was mad! her eyes said so! 



A DREAM. 
I. 



A Spirit of heavenly loveliness 
Fluttered and flew o'er the realms of my sight, 
Murmuring visions of that wild grace — 
Thots which were neither of day nor night — 
Thots which were heavenly sweetness themselves, 
Breathed on the breath of the brightest Elves, 
As they, with Elysian love consumed, 
Breathed a lingering sigh to the Moon, 
And then dissolved to a spirit-tune, 
And wafted a sweetness perpetually doomed: 
But mingled with crystal tears from the stars 
As they rejoiced o'er their astral cares — 
Sweetly despondent, and murmuring beams 
Which fell to the Earth as golden dreams: 
They were carried by this wild ruler of Space 
As she fluttered and flew upon crystal wings. 
And mingled her journey so to trace 
The Beauty, and interstellar, which sings 
In deepest fancies of the Moon-lit Night 
When Day and Day's sorrows have taken flight. 

II. 

I was pillowed aloft on a fiery cloud 

Hung between the Stars of the Night, 

And swung upon newest Star-beams bright, 

And bathed with a Dreaming which ever glowed 

And murmured and muttered the wildest charm 

Of skyey passion and heavenly storm. 

III. 
Flying upon the winged dreams 
Loosed from the Pinnacle of the Sky, 
Where the essence of high-sought love aye teems- 
An unknown Laugh and an unknown Sigh, — 
A Spirit, an Angel, played among 
The songs breathed forth from her lucid tongue. 
And wafted my Soul on the murmu rings 
On which her Song and her Beauty wings. 



68 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

IV. 

And then I slept as a dream doth sleep 
When the love and delight which it doth keep 
Are breathed away in the pensive streams 
Which enter her sleep as a Maiden dreams. 
But as I slept a skyey trance 
Drew its folds o'er me, and 'to enhance 
The mingled charm and the mingled awe 
Cast o'er me from what I heard and I saw. 

V. 

Fastened with infinite weight and might 

I yearned for the unknown, which did ignite 

My Spirit to glowing, but still there clung 

O'er me that weight, and from whence there hung 

A consciousness, thotless, yet intense, 

But neither of life nor death in sense. 

VI. 

And then I slept as a dream doth sleep 
When the gaze of yearning which it doth keep 
Is breathed away, and a charm comes o'er 
The Soul which never was charmed before. 

VII. 

And then I was charmed, for the Spirit arose 

And sang a song but a Spirit knows: 

The words were obscure, but sweet and pure, 

And entered within me as beams of the Moon 

Enter within the darkness of Night, 

And temper the darkness and make it bright, 

And all of itself where it was strewn, 

Mingle, and joy and loving allure. 

VIII. 

The song was wild, yet 'twas calm and sweet — 
The accents severed, and then did meet 
Into a vision of a love-breathed song, 
Breathed by the spirit of a crystal tongue 
Of a Nymph of Heaven's streams and woods. 
And multitudinous solitudes. 

IX. 

The song was wild! The wildness was mingled 
With beauty and depth and that silent thing 
Which aerial beings alone have singled 
To blend in the songs intense they sing: 
Her voice was the very life and light 
Of intricate music and sweet delight. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 69 

X. 

My very Soul was then cast adrift 
Upon the accents and echoes resounding 
Of that heavenly rhythm, for it could lift 
The heaviest weight upon Soul abounding: 
But still was I yet unable to move — 
Held by that gentle, colossal strength 
Which smothered my being, until at length 
Methot 'twas enough to wildly love! 

XL 

My Soul was fused and drifted as mist — 

A cloud in the stilly evening air, 

Wafted on sunbeams and gently kist 

By the warmth of the day in its vermeil lair: 

A web of miasma which 'rose on high, 

And mingled all with the light of the sky. 

Until it had lost its nature base 

In a purity wild that it could not efface: 

It floated anon till it almost became 

A part of its dream — a part of the flame 

Which enveloped it all, till I could not see 

Beyond that pellucid Purity! 

XII. 

And then the voice of the Spirit 'came low — 

It slowly and slowly more distant became: 

I listened — it sank! But did it go? 

Does not that Voice sing sweetly the same? 

Is it not that I am more deeply sleeping, 

And that Spirit is still her music upkeeping? 

Has she not charmed me to this distant death 

By the fire of her Song and the calm of her breath? 



FRAGMENT. 



The stars appeared the portal lights of a million 

Soft Tempean vales, which spread themselves anon 

In ribbed strands of gentleness, vermilion 

And golden in their glow. And this was one! 

Thine eyes shone as the stars to mark my path 
Within the vale where none before had gone! 



Is lighted not by thee, because 'tis it, 

But as the song is poured forth by the lark, 

But for the sake of the song, calm and sweet, 
So thy light shines, and is absorbed by me. 



My bark 



70 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

'Tis * 
A something that we'll never know aught of 

Upon our little Earth of little grief, 

For as we vainly thru that light do move, 

We cast a shadow o'er our souls, which is 

That something which Man wildly calleth: Love. 



A SONG. 



I. 

Come, live with me, Love! To the stars above 

We shall quickly take our flight, — 
I shall pillow thee there, and comb thy hair, 

As the moonbeams comb the night! 
Thine eyes shall shine as my glowing shrine, 

And my soul shall burn on them 
Till our spirits as one shall gleam alone, 

A heavenly diadem! 

IL 

Forever we'll dream on a slumbering beam 

Of the pensive midnight moon, 
And only waken when rays are shaken 

From the day that comes too soon: 
And then we can soar forever more 

Upon the wings of the light. 
And rest between in the dreamy screen 

Of the darkness of the night. 



I LOVED A MAID WITH A HEART OF STONE. 

I. 
I loved a Maid with a beautiful face, 

Which beamed with the fairest and brightest light 
Of sweetest purity, gentlest grace. 

And blended a mildness into the sight. 

IL 

I loved a Maid with heavenly eyes 

Which uttered inklings of thot unborn 
And dreamt of the beauty of Autumn's skies 

When Heaven of harshness all were shorn. 

ni. 

I loved a Maid with the fairest lips — 

So fair that the winds had striven to kiss 
As over the dreaming Earth she trips, 

And fainted and stilled when they tasted this. 



The Path oP Destiny and Other Poems. 71 



IV. 



I loved a Maid — but my song is sung — 

The breath of the love I breathed alone: — 

The lingering words of a songless tongue: 
I loved a Maid with a heart of stone. 



LINES. 

I. 

I know! I feel! My God! I feel 

The worldly ways are not of mine! 

My inmost Spirit now doth reel 
With wine that is not wine! 

II. 

I drank the innocense of those eyes — 
I lived within that glance so pure — 

But saw the Beauty of the skies 
Untouched alone endure! 

III. 

Immortal! that her Beauty is! 

Forever I would dream my song 
Upon the crystal wings of this — 

Then could the World know wrong? 



I FEAR THY GAZE. 

I. 

I fear thy gaze, my dear, I fear it! 

For it casts upon my heart 
A wild bewilderment when near it — 

All the treachery of thine art! 
It blinds my Soul — my Life — my Spirit — 

That wild life thou dost impart! 

II. 

I fear the music of thy voice, Dear, 

For my Heart in it is dead! 
The tones in which thou dost rejoice, dear. 

Whirl the Life then mingled 
Until I tremble in thy rays. Dear 

Plunging where I fear to tread! 

III. 

Like a wild Daemon craving Heaven 
When 'tis doomed to the Night — 



11 The Path of Destiny and Other PoeiCis. 

Like a wild Spirit when 'tis given 

Wings with which to cleave the light 
But craves the source! and as this even 

My wild soul doth crave for Might! 



REMEMBER! 



Sweet lips, bright eyes, and cheeks aglow, 
A dainty grace, and tripping feet, 

Thot shining forth that cannot know 
Aught else than only to be sweet: 

The dew, the rose, a zephyr, and 

A flowerlet swaying in the wind: 

Ah! Wilt thou never understand 

Tomorrow will not all this find? 



"I TRAVELED IN THE LIGHT." 

I traveled in the light 

Of other unknown climes 
Gazing on Visions bright — 

Listening to ghastly rhymes: 
I lingered o'er the wastes 

Of things of harmony 
Where love forever lasts — 

Where life will ever be: 
I trod upon the beams 

Of dying stars, and heard 
The stillness of dead dreams — 

Their lingering, unbreathed v/ord 
Of wild compassion, and 

That interlunar light 
That Heavens understand: 

I stood upon the height 
Of mountains vast and cold, 

Dreaming the thot of life 
That Earth is never told: 

I gazed o'er the strife 
Of Ages and of Death — 

Of Woe and Hate and Crime and Fear, 
And things that madness saith, 

But ever thot of thee, my Dear, 

To die upon thy breath! 



A SONG TO NIGHT. 

I must sing a song to thee, Night, 
Ere I close my eyes in sleep, 

And become an Eremite 

And lost in thy billowy deep. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 73 

I must sing a song to thee, Night, 

For Sleep, thou art so like Death, 
That I know not thy delight 

Will grasp and deaden my breath! 

1 must sing a song to thee. Night, 

Tho I never sing again! 
For thou dost calm my Flight — 

And thou dost deaden my Pain! 

I must sing a song to thee, Night. 

For I love thee tho I hate: 
I hate thy loss of light — 

I love thy closed gate! 

I must sing a song to thee, Night, 

A song of Love and of Death — 
Misery and Delight — 

And all that strews thy path! 

I must sing a song to thee. Night. 

Tho I faint upon my song — 
Tho blinded by my sight — 

Tho wronged by my wrong! 

I must sing a song to thee, Night. 

A song of Soul and of Mood, 
Which utters, as thou dost, Night, 

A turbulent Solitude! 

I must sing a song to thee. Night. 

Ere my Soul doth cease to sing! 
Thy darkened rays are bright — 

Thy Spirit is Everything! 

I must sing a song to thee, Night, 

I must curse thy pleasure with Song, 
For as the Soul doth fight, 

The Spirit must ever fly long! 

I must sing a song to thee, Night, 

Tho I never sing again: 
I know not thy heart-strings' might 

Will sever ni}^ Heart in twain! 

I must sing a song to thee, Night. 

For a Spirit without a soul 
Doth point with a finger bright 

The path to a lifeless goal! .^^.^ 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 



FRAGMENT. 

Her eyes! Oh, were they made to see with! I 

Never thot sight could be in such an eye! 

* * * 

I saw a Faery dreaming of the sky — 

Its azure and its calm tranquility: — 

I saw a Faery in the soundest sleep, 

Borne on the breath of Angels, which did keep 

Her lucid limbs pillowed within a cloud 

Of Daemon's tears, as to her form they bowed 

And wept in mystery. The Moon had drawn 

The tears into a mist of purest lawn — 

Had woven in a breath of gossamer, 

To make the bed in which they cradled her. 

The Faery slept. And oh! a Faery's sleep! 

So light — so gentle — mild — and yet, so deep! 

Methot the World and I and all were but 

A dream — a nightmare — while her eyes were shut — 

And then to vanish! And she wafted by 

Upon the sighs of Heaven, dreamily — 

And thence was from my sight! But soon there came 

Where'er that cloud had sped, a little flame 

Of whitest light, which turned within itself 

And formed another cloud, which did engulf 

The deepest depths of all my Soul! More pure 

Than was the other, did I see it there. 

For lo! it of the other was the Spirit — 

The departed Purity! It did inherit 

The Heaven of the other, as the Soul 

Is ever. As that mist did softly roll 

I saw the Faery's Soul was pillowed there, 

As she were 'fore my passed gaze. In her 

Life was, Love was, and all! 



LINES. 

How often does life happen to be bred 

With Mysticism, and crowning all o'er all? 
1 often wish a place to lay my head 

Where it would stay, wherever it would fall. 
Never to rise again; and ne'er again 

To see and hear and feel — nor even call 
When Death would come, to aye benumb my brain! 

For seeing, feeling, hearing, is such pain! 
I do not wish to wake nor rise nor sleep, 

But ever in a Nothingness to lay — 
Nor count the Ages as they onward creep 

To form their passion, cold Eternity! 
I wish to sink to death, as from a day 

Of cloudy troubles, night will form at last — 
Calm, sweet, serene, and then forever passed! 






The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 75 

A DIRGE. 

I. 

Blow! blow! thou wind, oh blow! 

Make merry while ye may — 
For Gods thou dost not know 

Will tear thy life away! 

II. 

Blow! blow! and rave alone! 

Cry not for other Fiends! 
Thou hast a heart of stone 

To bring thee thy fond ends! 

III. 

Blow! blow! thou wind and cold! 

And mingle with thy song 
The dirge I sang of old — 

The dirge we shall sing long! 

IV. 

Blow! blow! and never let 

Me rest in peace again! 
I dreamt I could forget — 

My Dream turned mad to Pain! 



POST MORTEM. 

I. 

My Love's eyes were beaming 

Far over the Sea — 
But they were not gleaming — 

Not gleaming on me! 

II. 

I begged that she glance on me 
But she was blind — 

And now the weeds dance on me 
With the cold wind! 



TO NIGHT AND DAY. 

Soul of the Day! 
Depart upon thy melancholy way! 

Daemon of Night! 
Approach on thy mad wings of fiery flight! 



76 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Leave off thy task, 
And leave the world without its Janus-mask! 

Enter again, 
And let me revel in thy pulseless pain! 



THE EVENING TINKLES DISTANTLY. 

The evening tinkles distantly, 

And darkness creeps o'er mount and lea, 
As homeward every heart doth fly — 

But mine out in the cold must die! 

II. 

The bird its tree — the fish its wave — 
The putrefying corpse its grave — 

But heart — my heart! — my aching head 
Has naught, for 'tis not even dead! 



THE DAUGHTERS OF GOD. 

It rose from Earth to a Vision above — 
Fond blessing to Man, calm Heavenly Love — 
When from their paths as they onward trod, 
The Sons of Men saw the Daughters of God. 



THE WAY OF THE WORLD. 

He trudged and dragged the clumsy weight. 

And then at last did hide her: 
When lo! I set the fly away — 

And killed the spider! 



THE PULSE OF PAIN. 



The water mirrors the sun's light, 

But not its warmth, my dear: 
I look beneath thine eyelids white — 

And see love mirrored there! 
And I once thot the warmth of love 

Reflected from those beaming eyes- 
But nay! they look on me to prove 

The River is beneath the Skies! 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 77 

II. 

And now thy gaze is cold and far, 

And glistens light, but chill, 
As does a Winter's midnight star. 

Which shines on winters hill! 
Thy touch is cold — thy heart is dead — 

That smile no longer lights thy brow: 
And I, who caught thy warmth when shed, 

Am cold as Winter's hill is, now! 

III. 

Angel of Grace! will Spring e'er come, 

That love will be thj- gaze? 
Wilt thou — wilt thou — oh my heart's home — 

E'er bring thy warmer days? 
Give me thy hand — and turn thine eyes 

Upon my eyes, my Love, again: 
That gaze all other light denies. 

But in that hand, the Pulse of Pain! 



TO A STAR. 

I. 

Oh thou bright eye of night hung in azure delight! 

Oh thou gem of the virgin sky! 
What crystal thots sway innate in each ray — 

Oh what so enlightens thine eye? 
What passion hast thou as thou peerest below, 

In ripples of sparkling splendor? 
What joy doth thy being, thy ne'er ending seeing — 

What joy doth thy dreamy life render? 

II. 

So calmly thou gazest as thy lids thou raisest — 

Thine eyelids of purple blue, 
And with a sweet loving cast thy sight a-roving, 

Dropping tears of soft silver thru. 
Dost thou wake, or art sleeping to dream in thy weeping. 

Thy dreams to cast down on thy tears? 
Or is it that laughter which bringeth tears after? 

— Which Spirit upon the Earth peers? 

III. 
Methinks in thy glowing I see a wild showing 

Of ages bespent in delight — 
A murmur, a gleaming, which comes to one dreaming, 

Pillowed deep in the darkness of night! 
Or canst thou be sad, with thy lone Spirit mad? 

Dost thou weary of thy solitude? 
With thy soul hung so high there aloft o'er the sky, 

Can wild longings pierce thru thine abode? 



78 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 



IV. 

Oh thou Pride of the Night! Oh thou lone Eremite! 

Thy gaze is so cold and forlorn — 
Oh canst thou not ever this wild distance sever? 

Cannot distance of coldness be shorn? 
Ah, weep that sweet light, even tho 'tis but bright! 

Ah, weep down thy being's clear form! 
And altho it be chill, my own Spirit will 

Die on it, and so make it warm! 



THEN CAN HEARTS LIVE? CAN MEMORY DIE? 

I. 

Afar, beyond the little strife 

Which casts a mist o'er the pure sky. 

My Soul there craveth for a life 

Where hearts may live and memory die. 

II. 

Beyond the Seas whose waves are Crime, 
Dashing the Waters, Ignorance, — 

Where life will cease to be a mime. 

And mimes shall waken from their trance, — 

III. 

Where living and where life are one — 
And life is not a mere machine, — 

Where solitude shall be the throne. 

And Love shall ever reign the Queen: 

IV. 

Here may the strength colossal of 

The God claim what it ought to be 

Here may the heart of ages prove 

That God is Love, and Love is free! 

V. 

Within the brightest bowers there 

Spirits may wing upon a sigh, 
And cast a clearness in the air. 

That hearts may live and memory die. 

VI. 

And all that's base in life may be 

Cast out and long forgotten in 
The surging of another sea — 

The weeping of another sin. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 79 



VII. 

When darkest night is round a heart, 
And darkest hell doth burn within, 

The darkness miay not all depart. 

But light may shine where some had been! 

VIII. 

'Tis flown! 'Tis gone upon the wings 

Of unrepenting time, and I 
Care not to longer dream the things 

Where hearts may live and memory die. 

IX. 

My dream is dreamed, and I shall leave 

It here alone to seek its lot in 
A World too thotless to believe — 

To be remembered or forgotten. 

X. 

I care not more — I seek not more — 
I know not joy and know not grief, 

But I have glanced thru living's lore — 
I have gone thru the fire of life! 

XL 

I bid adieu — I breathe adieu — 

I wish no more to seek to stay 

My dankest thot behind a few 

Found in the depths of Poesy. 

XII. 

Nor will I say farewell, for I 

But hear the echo of my voice. 

Which shivers to a maddened cry, 

And maddens there within the noise. 

XIII. 

Nor will I say farewell! I've lived 

A mad farewell in every day, 
And will, until I have been shrived 

By waking from this fatal play. 

XIV. 

When I am dead — Death, only thou 

Can'st teach me how to laugh, and as 

I laugh at really knowing how, 

I laugh myself from am to was! 



80 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

XV. 

Fond fool! Fond idol in disguise! 

Wh}'^ do we live if not to try 
To gain from thee some vague, dumb prize, 

And then think we're content to die? 

XVI. 

But Death, what is thy prize? 'Tis naught! 

I do not fear thee, if I hate! 
Tho I might love if thou had'st sought 

Thy strength in weaker things than Fate! 

XVII. 

Enough, thou feeble Demon! Go 

Sickly and pale to thy cooled hell. 

And groan thou as the chill winds blow 
Between thy bones unclean and fell! 

XVIII. 

Taunted and taunting, darkness groans 
And flaps its shroud to its weak cry. 

Gnawing its tongue — among the groans — 
Then can hearts live? Can memory die? 



THE UNFORGOTTEN. 

And did I faint with love? Nay, for there flew 
A melancholy stillness o'er the air. 
And intermingled with a sweet despair. 

It breathed upon my brow, and wept me to 

Myself unwelcomed: silently it flew 

Into those unknown realms where only dare 
The souls of love in wandering, and where 

It dies upon the dreams of what I knew. 

And thus I was awakened ere I sank 

Into those Lethean realms of mild and calm 

Oblivion, lulled by the wine I drank 

To kill with madness, or soothe as a balm, 

Eternally, and raise me from the rank 

Plagued b}^ meanness and the after qualm. 

Hearken ye to *he Spirits of the Night, 

As they pursue their darkling journey o'er 
A deadened world, shaking forgotten lore 
Out of their wings enchanted. How their flight 
Doth whisper muterings of a sweet sight 
Enveloped and encompassed, and before 
The Heart, in peaced darkness, as they soar 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 81 

In secrecy, and breathe away the light. 
A whispering was haunted to mine ear. 

Trembling with tales forbidden b}^ the Gods, 
And murmuring a sadness blent with fear, 

Fearing a word which the day never lauds, 
But singing till their song became their bier, 

They left my dream — dissolved to their abodes. 

As a fair flowerlet driven by the wind, 

When evening breathes over the Earth a kiss 

Of sleep and rest and dreams of death — as this 
She was before the sight of my heart's mind: 
And evening sank upon my Soul to find , 

If it were living, and of what life is 

Within it: In the light of dreaming bliss 
I loosed my bounded heart, and did unbind 
The adamantine ties which strove to keep 

It far within itself: the ghost of time 
Glode into the dark portals of my sleep, 

Breathing the incense of another clime, 
And whispering a resonance as deep 

As death: — Thine eyes must close at last, oh Mime! 

Mine eyes deep closed in death, and I was blown 

Upon the wings of darkness weak and cold, 

Thru space where death's chill plays when 'tis grown old 
Into the realms of unborn time, unflown. 
Unfounded, and undreamt: the stillness grown 

Out of the depths of awe within the fold 

Sank heavily o'er my head, with tales untold 
And unpremeditated and unknown: 
But still my sight was one with that one form 

Which was my sight before: I dreamt there flew 
Innumerable ages as a charm 

Over my being, but that sight ne'er grew 
The less, but more intense, within that storm 

Of dreams and ages as one never knew. 



SONNET. 



As I sate listening to the beat of Spirits 

As they were sinking in mad agony, 
And dreaming of what death of ever inherits 

Within the wearied bounds of misery. 
Sate, jostled 'twixt the early gates of sleep, 

Where death haunts life with its mad beaming eye, 
And unknown Sprites a revelrj^ upkeep, 

A dreamy form glode forth in mystery — 
Glode forth within a trance, austere, alone, 

And made sweet whisperings within rnine ear, 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Until, with ghastly skill, that form had gone 

Into my brain upon the wings of fear 
And murmured mutterings: then all was sunk 
Into the trembling stillness I had drunk. 



. SONNET: DEATH. 

Ah, is life but a dream? I trod in space, 

And tried to waken from my living trance. 
While traveling on the paths which interlace 

Among the fiery clouds, and to enhance 
The knowledge of all Universal things 

Within my sleep. I dreamt within the glow 
Of suns and stars of gentle murmurings, 

And sought to dream my Spirit so to go 
Into a wakefulness — but lo, I slept 

More soundly, and I learned of Death: I saw 
Sweet forms of life, which dreamed until they wept 

Themselves into a trance of deepest awe. 
And dwindled into death: And o'er their biers: 
Oh, thou would'st make Death wish to die in tears! 



SONNET: NIGHT. 



What stillness is the night! What quietness! 

What sleeping ghosts are lolling o'er thy breast, 
Oh Time, to smother thee so motionless? 

What maketh thee so breathless in thy rest? 
What fumes are forced from thy throat, to make 

The very air narcotic, and to cast 
All life into a stupor, and partake 

Of visions of thy self? Ah! But the last 
Bonds of untutored memory are torn 

By thee, and sent away upon the wings 
Of Sleep's oblivion, while we are borne 

On thine own vanished breath, into such things 
As even Fools and Poets cannot dream 
Unless thy majesty doth o'er them gleam. 



SONNET: AUTUMN. 

r saw 'twias Autumn, and I dreamt 'twas Spring: 

The blushing leaves were turning to their love- 
Faltering and wavering in the murmuring 

Of wordless breathing — sighing — meaning: Love. 
A cloud — a Dream's deep breath was hanging o'er 

The color laden and the scented Earth, 
Gilded and painted as a mind to soar 

Within the realms of Poesy and forth 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 83 

Into the valleys of an unborn Land 

Of Dreams and Dreaming and of Fancy mild: 

The Sky — the Sky, pillowed upon the breath 
And sighs of sleeping Earth, and calmly fanned 

In sweetest strains by things unknown and wild. 

The thot, the strain of Autumn echoeth. 



SONNET. 



Pale — pale! Oh Earth, thy pallid cheek is cold! 

I nestled in thy bosom once, but now 
I find thee cold and dead, as Death grown old 

And stark: and my Soul bowed down with thee low 
And dreamt on thy cold breast forbidden dreams 

Which come but to forbidden lives. I saw 
Dark shadows flow in melancholy streams. 

And waver — disappear in mingled awe 
And terror, strife and woe; and I loved Death! 

Aye! Loved Death with the Hate that Death can hate. 
As I kist her cold lips, and I had faith 

In Hate and Hell! then as we mourning sate 
She turned my blood to poison, and drank it — 
Now Death is hectic in a maddened fit! 



SONNET. 



I dreamt of Worlds. I dreamt of Worlds eternal, 

As they thru Space perpetually were hurled, 
When lo! they then appeared to be diurnal. 

And settled as a Sun, but as a World! 
I gazed as all was turned to a mist, 

Which took a form — a form that was a Sprite 
Of Light and Life and Love, wavered, and kist 

Bj'^ Heaven's brightness and by Heaven's light: 
I gazed: I recognized — I felt within 

That Spirit-form, that Vision of my Heart — 
That Vision which my very Soul had seen — 

And seen for 'twas the Vision that thou art: 
I saw thee there, and saw that there, forsooth. 
That thou wert Life — and Life was labeled: Truth! 



SONNET. 



reading a fragment by Herbert Kennedy, who died at the age of 

eighteen.) 

A quiet song, o'ercast with Beauty deep, 

Was wafted to me on the wings of night, 
Mingled with that sweet calmness and delight 



84 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 



Born of a Heart too mild and sad to weep: 
My Soul awoke out of a darkling sleep — 

Awoke — and saw that Heaven's Eremite 

Had listened to his sighing Spirit's flight, 
And, with his melody, sang himself asleep: 
I woke, and startled by the unknown hour 

Within me, puzzled over this wierd ray 
Of what my very Soul had lingered for: — 

The shade of Death was partly drawn away: 
A vague and unseen light was hovering o'er 

Where dread and dreary darkness feared to stray! 



SONNET: TO JOHN KEATS. 

The noble grandeur of thy melody 

Arises in the fancy as a song 

Breathes o'er the ripples of a Faery's tongue, 
When she is fading as a fantasy 
Within her soul, when it were wild and free. 

And she dwelt in forbidden caves among: 

Or like the murmur which floweth along 
Within the soul of Nature, silently, 
And echoeth without sound and without din. 

But a. sweet breathing, as a flower's kiss 
Is to the ambient air: full of the sin 

Of Heaven's calmest thot and calmest bliss 
On Earth: a spirit honey-comb, wherein 

The sweetest of all honey 'compassed is. 



SONNET TO BYRON. 

Aye! Thou had'st strength — but did thy strength prevail? 

And thou hadst darkness — didst thou not see day? 
Thou wert dissatisfied — but didst thou fail 

To find thy satisfaction in the way 
Fond F'ate stilled thy great breath? Could'st even thou 

Spurn Heaven for Death? When Death came in thy prime? 
Thou would'st not even wish to have Death slow — 

But to intensely die, in that high time 
When thou could'st make him tremble and to fear! 

But thou wert human — and a human heart 
Beat 'neath that godly breast, which did appear 

Too mad for love — but Love had chosen part, 
And builded a lone castle, there to reign 
Grand, austere, and alone, to lose to gain. 



SONNET. 



A glistening light oppresst my weary brain. 
And told me tales by all misunderstood, 
For they were whisperings from Solitude, 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems, 85 

Strayed o'er the valley, mountain, and the plain 
Of wilds which shall by none be seen again: 

I gazed until my sight was blurred and stood 

As one in a dead agony, who would 
Conquer the sun, the world, and all, quite fain. 
I wished for light the while I begged for dark — 

I wished for death, but did not wish to die — 
I wished to enter in a winged bark 

And sail over the billowed fields of sky: 
I wished from there to murmur such remark 

As one who was content to leave the World just by. 



SONNET. 



And oh! to bask forever in such thot! 

And oh! to dream forever in such bliss! 
Oh, that my soul could be forever fraught 

With all the innate music of all this! 
To dream that ages roll above my head, 

With only love to waft down from the skies; 
To lead a life that Gods blush at when led, 

And waver in the music of those eyes; 
To listen to the beating of her heart, 

And listen to the breathing of a dream; 
To live forever — ever — as a part 

Of intense grandeur, flowing on its stream; 
To live forever — List! Ah, all is flown! 
All is extinguished in a dying groan! 



SONNET. 



Dim, unsought music lingers in my head. 

And whispers tales of unexpecting climes: 
And my eyes conjure visions of the dead. 

Which float past on the breath of ruined times: 
My heart beats loving that I know not of, 

My Soul is pained with an unknown pain. 
Pained because it once throbbed in love, 

Loving because it could not cease again: 
Ungodly incense smothers my slow breath, 

Ungodly thot caresses life to sin — 
That perfect sin which turns a perfect faith, 

x\nd makes life as the Gods themselves have been: 
Unfearing and unhating — deep in mirth — 
Sighing in merriment, smiling at troubled Earth. 



SONNET. 

Rich in the honied verdure of the woods — 
Bowed 'neath the perfect purple of the sky- 
And gently drawn within that harmony 



86 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Of musings among those Lethean Solitudes, 

Breathed from their dreaming stillness, the deep roads 
Of things immortal opened to mine eye: 
Led by the gentle murmur of a sigh 

Born of forgetfulness, as it intrudes 

In secrecy, I wandered o'er the plain: 

Dim floating forms caressed my hectic brow, 
And pillowed in their arms my weary head. 
Whispering an incense o'er my flowered bed. 
Until I closed mine eyes: slowly — so slow — 

I sank beneath that charm of mingled joy and pain. 



SONNET. 



Wrapt in the weary splendor of a dream, 

Thy form arose, and gently hovered o'er 
The realms of mists and clouds, where there doth gleam 
No light but of thine eyes, and love may soar 
Upon the winged deepness of its breath, 

While giving utterance in meaning sighs 
To the dim beauty of its boundless path — 

Casting a shadow of a sweet surprise 
In every endless movement of its flight, 

And then to linger in a mild, sustained 
Enjoyment of the never-darkening night, 

Which weeps forever: and sweet kisses rained 
Thru the deep shadows of the dimmed air, 
Loosed from thy lips, entangled in thy hair. 



SONNET. 



And then they spurn thee, as they would a dog. 

And look amazed when they see thou hast feeling; 

And when thou wonder'st at their curious dealing. 
And thy spirit sinketh in a deep-felt fog. 
And thy soul feel'th lost within its own dark bog, 

And quite outspent, it dieth in hectic reeling — 

Aye! dieth but to wake at its own pealing. 
And feeleth strange in its strange catalogue; 
Aye! then they laugh, and find great joy in thee, 

And in thine odd behavior — and they wonder — 
But for a moment, and the memory 

Of Earth hath dropped thee, hath cleft thee asunder 
Forever, — nor allow'th its eyes to see 

That thou hast lived: But hope! The grave is fonder! 



SONNET. 

Those eyes! Those eyes! I see those eyes where'er 
I hap to gaze. I see them in the sky, 
The clouds, — aye! e'en away beyond they lie. 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 87 

Wrapt in the light of Heaven. And in the air, 
Where'er I look, I see that pensive stare 

Of mellowed softness, gazing tenderly. 

I see them in my sleep — so dreamily — 
T see them ever — see them everywhere! 
Thou haunting sweetness — light and dark — oh stay! 

Fear not — abide with me — become a part 
Of my dark soul, to wake with light! I pray! 

Abide with me, with all thy gentle art, — 
And be to me the world — the night — the day — 

The very pulse — the mirror of my heart! 



SONNET. 



My Heart, why art thou sad? What fears hast thou 

Sheltered withm those throbbing depths of thine? 
What whisperest in that slow beating now, 

That I can know not, nor that it is mine? 
Why art thou sad? Fond answer to my words! 

Thou knowest not, nor even that thou'rt sad! 
Thy melancholy being well affords 

Enough: 'tis not as if he only had 
Darkness about him who had sadness, than 

He does not fly who would that he had wings, 
Altho he reasoned not he could not scan 

The Earth from airy billows, nor why sings 
The lark songs he knows not: My Heart, we see 
Thou'rt sunk in the awful depths of Life and Poesy! 



SONNET. 



Ah Death! Thy lips are cold! Thy frigid breath 

Doth freeze my Soul, and make my heart a stone, 
Whilst thou dost sing that wild, wild song of death 

In making merry with a Daemon lone! 
Ah Death! Thy pulse is still — thine husky voice 

Doth pierce the Spirit that 1 thot was mine, 
As thou dost sing thy dirge, and there rejoice. 

Thinking that every life will thus be thine! 
Vain Daemon of mad Space! let me now free, 

Or I shall poison thee with my dead blood: 
Or live forever in mad misery 

Gnawing the other as our only food — 
And hideously laugh as each doth cry 
In pain: and able to do all — but die! 



SONNET. 



Speak — speak! 'Tis Poesy which falleth from 
Those lips of thine! 'Tis sacred music, calm. 

Sweet, mild, and dear, and as that which doth come 
Upon a Dream-land atmosphere — a balm — 



88 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

The very Soul and Life which echoeth 

That lone tranquility — that pensiveness 
Born on the mellowed light and on the breath 

Of Autumn, in unworldly Worlds, which bless 
Forever — ^and I dream must bless the Earth! 

Speak — speak! Ah, that is sweeter music far 
Than even dreams themselves can e'er dream forth! 

So thou dream forth thy music as a star 
Doth dream its silver beams into the night — 
Both breathing thot too pure for the day — light! 



SONNET. 



I saw a couch high piled in Luxury, 

And sweetest incense floating o'er the air, 
Lulling the inmost soul to a despair 
Born of too deep a sweetness. I could see 
Within a shaded cove, where naught could be 
But soothing ministers to stubborn care, 
A velveted and cushioned bed: the lair 
I entered, and laid me down dreamily. 
Sweet, undreamt strains arose, and I could hear 
Voices of greater sweetness, till there came 
A chanting troop of maidens: each did bear 
An instrument of torture used to maim 
In cruelty, a heart: they slowly went 
Unto the couch, and sang away the firmament. 



SONNET. 

The same — the same — ever How soon one tires of 

The selfish monotony of life, until, 

In desperation of unsated fill, 
Life seeks its shackles only to remove: 
With never deviation nor above 

Nor yet below; nor over Nothing's sill 

To ever tread; and ever the same rill 
Of light and dark, of hatred and of love. 
This, life — yea, and this is monotony: 

This, life — which shackles tightly self to self; 

This, life — which wrecks itself within its path, 
And 'gainst its sides; and which cannot even see 

Up to the shores of its unbounded gulf: 

Can Life be blamed to seek a change in Death? 



SONNET. 



Still there thou sittest. Flower, conscious not 
Of eyes all ravishing, thy Faery brow: 

Still there thou sittest, Flower, beauty fraught. 
And fairer every moment than thou'rt now: 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 89 

Aye! There thou bloomest, and thy beams are thrown 

Out — out upon the coarser word around 
Thy pedestal of Love. Nay! Not unknown, 

For in my heart have thy beams silent found 
A target — tho thou in thy innocence 

Art all so sweetly, calmly unaware, 
That nothing — nothing — e'er could recompense 

The knowledge even breathed into the air: 
For thou art Beauty, Love, — but now thou'rt gone — 
Thou'rt gone! And I am left again alone. 



SONNET: TO NIGHT. 

Cold, chilly death of Day! Uncanny Night! 

Oh thou with pinched cheek and hollow eye! 
Go! Cast the mirror of thy hideous fright 

In Hell, to move a Devil less than I! 
I fear thee not! I hate thee, filthy corpse 

Of grief and madness and of death defiled! 
So go! Let ooze thy smothered fallen force 

On Daemons with a Soul less mad — less wild! 
Thou wilt not go? Then stay! Forever stay, 

Thou Fiend, and make thy coffined bed with me, 
Where we are wed, and never let the day 

Shine on that Soul, once mine, but now of thee! 
I'll force myself into thy wormy bed. 
Where thou shalt laugh, and dancing Death play on my head! 



SONNET. 



The light waned slowly, softly, till it hung 

As a dim cloud of calmly sleeping mist. 
Dreaming in mild tranquility among 

The clouds of new-born heavens, as 'twas kist 
By shadows and by shapes of wildered time: 

I strolled over the paths and scenery wild, 
Breathing in meditation a deep rhyme 

Of ages, reveling as a very child 
Of shapes fantastical, the while there loomed 

New darkened pastures for my dying soul, 
Expiring in this loveliness: entombed 

Within the mirror of some painless dole, 
I saw my agony reflected — Lo! 
I sank into a dream, within a breathing slow. 



SONNET. 



I spoke. At my command then there appeared 
A change over the face of things: where there 

Had been Death's visage, lo! now to me neared 
A brilliant cloud begemmed with fire and fair 



90 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Things of no name. And then it was no cloud, 

But a calm omen of a dream of days 
Of dreams; for it had thrown aside its shroud 

Of dim distinction, which made it a haze, 
And now stood forth in clearness. Then I saw 

A sight, which seen, one could but be immortal, • 
For as I gazed, I saw a spirit draw 

The curtain from that dimly lighted portal 
Where Love resided. Whence, my ^ul asleep, 
I entered in the annals of the deep. 



SONNET. 



There's music flying thru the boisterous air — 

There's a sound of voices wild in gayety — 
There's life and sport that would make death despair 

Of conquering again, and all round me 
There's joy: I look, and try to be a part 

Of this external show of deeper life, 
But lo! there's something deep within my heart 

Which cuts my own self deep, as a sharp knife: 
I look in wonderment, and play with all 

About me, deeming things of this and that — 
And seem to dream a dream perpetual. 

And madly mingle — till a dream of what 
I see turns actual — a written scroll 
Of the pained awfulness within the soul. 



SONNET. 

With accents unresponding in my Soul, 

The Spirit winged thru the clouds of Life, 
And pointed to a fluctuating goal — 

A goal ordained deep-set in joy and grief: 
Pointed and trembled wildly all the while, 

And wept and laughed in mad, inhuman pain. 
Its visage lit with a sarcastic smile, 

And awe and fire both raging in its brain: 
It stood upon a pedestal of clouds, 

Painted with tints of long set and dead suns, 
Which had departed and had left their shrouds 

To make the living dead — that light which stuns 
The glory of its life: I saw — I knew — 
And then a cloud over my vision blew. 



THE GHOST OF LIFE. 

I. 

Sadly the winds blew o'er my tomb — 
Drearily winging over my bier — 



The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 

Singing a song of a sleeping doom 
Terrible to hear: 
Of Drear! oh Drear! 



II. 

A ghost from the portals of things unseen 

Was hurled in the voice of its shroud to me, 
Telling tales that it once had been — 

What it could not be: 

Of Misery! 

III. 

A voice arose from the depths of the deep, 

Sighing in unison to the tone 
Of torture, as a lone corpse doth weep 

From being alone — 

A moan — a moan! 



IV. 

The moan turned to a slow, sad song — 

I heard the deep echo as one of dole- 
I arose on the accents of its tongue — 

For it could console 

My weary Soul. 

V. 

The voice sank down to a whisper low, 

Muttering strange and curious things 
That only death can so coldly blow 

On the chilly wings 

Of its murmurings. 



VI. 

The ghost dissolved in the dying breath, 

And disappeared in a weary moan 
Of death, and things which are underneath 

A spirit groan — 

And left me alone. 



VII. 

And left me alone! The thot sank deep — 

Deep into my heart, — I was as one 
Who had turned a ghost, but could not sleep 

For the living tone 

Of alone! alone! 



92 The Path of Destiny and Other Poems. 



I DREAMT I TURNED A DAEMON. 

I dreamt I turned a Daemon 

And flew upon the wings 
Of smothered stars in dreaming 

Of wild and unknown things: 
I dreamt I were immortal, 

And lookt into the vast 
And over-lavished portal 

Of Future and of Past: 
I saw deep shadows looming, 

And shapes of different hues 
Dissolved as Suns consuming 

The breath of other dews. 
While sweetest sounds were falling 

Out of the air to ears 
Which listened; some were calling 

The sweetness of their fears: 
I floated in this dreaming — 

Or did I dream, or was 
This not that which was seeming, 
But seeming, comes to pass? 



